Forgotten Gods book read online. Yuri Korchevsky Ratibor

Yuri Korchevsky

Ratibor. Forgotten Gods

It is given to each according to his faith.

Ilya Poddubny was from the Pomors. Born in Arkhangelsk, studied in Murmansk to become a mechanical engineer. However, he had a passion - fishing. And so, together with a friend, he went to his relatives on the White Sea coast.

But the weather in the North is changeable. The sun has just been shining, and already there is a cloud, bringing with it a snow squall. The boat in which Ilya was located, with the engine not working, was carried away into the open sea. And he was already completely desperate, but he saw the ship. If only he knew that this is “Lyubov Orlova”, which has been drifting for several months...

The ancient goddess Makosh saved Ilya from thirst and starvation. He gave her an oath to serve the pagan gods, but he did not think that his life would now change dramatically. He landed on the shore, was delighted - but no, he ended up in the thirteenth century...

Rus', which had been forcibly baptized, had not yet parted with pagan beliefs, and Ilya met one of the main wise men, Borg. Having become a noble warrior, he supported him in everything with fire and sword.

Through the sorcerer, Ilya found his love. Only that love was short-lived and bitter. The Vladimir governor Vyshata meanly killed his Marya.

Ilya begged, asked Mokosha for help, but the pagan goddess only turned away from him, and worse, turned him into a young oak tree at the city gates.

Days, weeks, months, years and centuries passed. The tree grew into a huge, three-girth, mighty oak tree. Ilya was alive, but he couldn’t move. So I thought that the time would soon come when it would not be an evil hand that would knock it down, but wood-boring beetles that would erode the core. And a hurricane will knock it down, uproot an old tree - all trees die someday.

But then one day...

Chapter 1. Alive!

On a gloomy September evening, when a strong wind was blowing and the sky was overcast with clouds, foreshadowing rain, a girl ran to the oak tree. She pressed herself close to him. Ilya did not hear what she said, but her embrace was tight, and the vibration of her voice was transmitted to the tree trunk.

Ilya felt something unusual. All the time he was in captivity and suddenly he realized that the shackles were falling off. First, instead of branches, arms appeared, then a head, and last the legs felt freedom. Ilya straightened his shoulders, moved his stiff limbs and took a deep breath. Apparently, the spell cast by the ancient goddess ended, and he again took on human form.

Many centuries have passed since the tragic events. There are few pagans left, only in remote, remote corners. People stopped worshiping the ancient gods and forgot about their existence. The idols were overthrown - chopped into chips, or even burned; the temples were destroyed, the Magi became extinct. No one offered prayers, thanked the gods, or brought gifts to the sacrificial stone. The gods gradually weakened, not receiving energy from their fans, and so the bonds of Mokosh weakened.

And at once I remembered Ilya Marya, Yaroslavl, the damned Vyshata, who destroyed his life.

Only returning to the world of the living was strange. Neither the wind, nor the clouds, nor the city, not far from the gates of which he stood, was visible. The air is warm, the sun shines tenderly in the south, hills are visible in the distance, the grass in the meadows is green to the waist...

Ilya looked at himself, not believing that he had found a human body - yes, he was naked! No clothes, not even a loincloth. And there are no shoes... But how could the tree have clothes?

Fright came, even goosebumps appeared on the skin. Isn’t this paradise, isn’t it the tabernacles of paradise, as theologians call them? Maybe he died and went to heaven? No, he has a lot of sins. What kind of paradise is there, who will let him there? His place is in hell! But in Ilya’s mind, this place should be gloomy, hell after all. And where are the devils who throw firewood under the boilers of boiling tar?

Ilya stood still, not knowing what to do. He had to go somewhere - sooner or later he would stumble upon traces of people. Makosh treated him cruelly. And she didn’t save Marya, although she probably could have, and doomed him to eternal torment.

Ilya was seriously offended by the ancient gods. Of course, for the celestials he is a small booger, what do they care about his insults? But for himself, Ilya had already decided not to get involved with the pagans in the future, ever. He was an atheist - and he should remain so. And if he happened to meet a temple, he would destroy it. Now he has no faith, and the ancient gods are forgotten.

Ilya moved south. He expected that after the ordeal he would forget how to walk, but his legs obeyed him. From an excess of feelings, he shouted something incomprehensible - only in order to hear his voice, to splash out his emotions. Feelings overwhelmed him, his head was spinning. He's alive! He is a man again and can go wherever he wants and communicate with other people. Being in the form of a tree is even worse than being in solitary confinement for life.

Ilya suddenly stopped - how old is he then? And what year is it now? If he had returned to his time and to his native places, the area where he was would have been completely different. Was it really possible that, on top of everything else, he was thrown into distant lands? Mokosh's tricks again? Yes, she should already forget about him. Gods are not omnipotent either.

Only a meeting with a person could resolve all his questions. Then he will know about the time, and the year will be told to him. But he didn’t want to remain naked; he was not a primitive man or a wild beast.

It was about noon, since his own shadow was very short. But by evening he will reach some village.

As soon as he climbed a small hill, he saw not far away a hut made of willow twigs - such as shepherds sometimes made for protection from the scorching rays of the sun or rain.

Ilya almost ran to her.

Ilya stomped around the entrance to the hut, then looked inside - there was no door. No table, no chair, no furniture, just a bundle in the corner.

Ilya looked around - no one was visible. He didn't want to be mistaken for a thief. Then they will beat you and drive you out completely.

He finally made up his mind and entered, bending down - the ceiling was a bit low. He untied the bundle: a handful of dried grapes, a slightly dried piece of cheese, a flatbread.

Ilya swallowed saliva - he had not eaten normally for a very long time. A shepherd or winegrower unknown to him left his meager lunch here, and if he eats it, the man will be offended. But he couldn’t take his eyes off the food. The food was tempting, my mouth was overflowing with saliva. Come what may!

Ilya took a bite of cheese. Mmm! Forgotten taste! He chewed the cheese thoroughly and swallowed it. I once heard that after a long fast you need to eat very little, otherwise intestinal volvulus may occur. And now Ilya was afraid to take another bite. With a regretful sigh, he threw several dried grapes into his mouth. Very sweet raisins! It seemed to Ilya that he had never eaten anything more delicious. Forcing himself to put the food in a bundle, he lay down in the hut directly on the ground - he had to wait for the owner.

One thing embarrassed him - he was completely naked. If only I could cover my loins with something... The owner of the hut will appear - who will he take Ilya for? For a homeless person? Then he’ll kick you out without talking.

Or not to wait, to leave? But when you are hungry, naked and don’t know where you’ve gone or what year it is, you don’t feel like traveling.

The canopy provided shade, the willow shields let in the breeze, and the hut was comfortable.

We didn't have to wait long - it was past noon, lunchtime. Moreover, the villagers got up early, with sunrise.

Ilya tried to understand what language the man was singing in - like Greek. Almost each of us, not knowing the language of the singer, but knowing how this or that language sounds, can sometimes say exactly who the singer is by nationality.

A stranger appeared on the threshold of the hut, clearly of southern blood: black curly hair, brown eyes, dark skin. From clothing - a loincloth.

Seeing Ilya, the man was surprised: the unexpected guest was naked, white-skinned, tall, gray-eyed, and also blond. It’s immediately clear that he’s a foreigner.

The owner said something quickly. Ilya listened to the words, but what's the point if you don't know the language? He could communicate in English - he taught it at school, university, and also had to use it when he went on ships.

Ilya tried to slowly say in English that he was lost.

Oddly enough, the villager understood him and nodded. Then he pointed to Ilya’s body and asked a question, probably about clothes. But Ilya just threw up his hands. Even if he knew a foreign language perfectly, he still would not tell the truth. If you don’t tell a stranger about Mokosh, about the oak tree, he won’t understand and won’t believe it. Yes, Ilya himself would not have believed it if this had not happened to him.

The stranger did not bother him with questions - what was the point if there was no answer? He sat down in the center of the hut and unwrapped the bundle with a meager lunch. Without being greedy, he broke off half of a piece of cheese, handed it to Ilya and slammed his palm on the ground next to him, inviting him to sit next to him and share the meal with him.

The sign is good. In all tribes and peoples, a joint meal is a sign of friendship and reconciliation. Breaking bread or sharing a flatbread shows your affection. One does not dine with the enemy, if only for fear of being poisoned.

The owner of the hut honestly shared everything - cheese, flatbread, raisins.

Ilya ate carefully; it remains to be seen how his stomach will react to the food.

After eating, the stranger poked his finger into his chest:

- Alexander.

Ilya nodded and introduced himself:

Alexander smiled:

- Elijah, the barbarian.

Well, we didn’t even have time to get acquainted, but I already called him... And who would like it if they called him a barbarian?.. The word is offensive, it implies an uncouth savage.

Ilya felt a desire to argue with Alexander, but how can he explain himself without language?

The owner of the hut lay down and closed his eyes. Well, yes, in southern countries, after lunch there is a siesta, an afternoon rest.

Ilya followed suit. The owner doesn’t have a weapon, you can’t hide a knife in a loincloth, so there was no point in fearing that Alexander would kill him while he was sleeping.

He took a nap for two hours and woke up from a rustle nearby. Alexander had already gotten up and was about to leave.

Ilya got up too. And when the native left the hut and headed along the path, Ilya sat down next to him - he couldn’t live in a hut...

Alexander moved between the rows of the vineyard, periodically stopping and tying up the ripening clusters of sunny berries.

Ilya looked closely at his work for some time, and then he himself tied one brush with a rope.

Alexander, watching his actions, nodded his head in approval.

And so it went. Alexander examined the left side, and Ilya examined the right. The man shared his modest lunch with him, so why not respond with gratitude? In addition, Ilya hoped that Alexander would come to his plight and give him a piece of fabric for a loincloth. Clothing was needed not to warm the body - it was warm, even hot, but to cover nakedness. He is not a wild beast or a barbarian to walk around naked.

Ilya felt out of place, uncomfortable, uncomfortable. A foreign country, a foreign language and customs... And he has no clothes, no documents, no money... If he happens to meet the police, there will be problems. Try to explain to someone how he ended up here, crossed the border. However, he immediately reassured himself: in case of problems, he would demand a translator and a meeting with the consul or someone from the Russian embassy. Although there will be many questions, and the main one is how did he end up in this country without a visa and documents? And he was also alarmed: there were no power lines visible anywhere, no planes were flying, although he looked at the sky regularly, no music could be heard in the distance...

When both passed one row and turned to another, Ilya asked:

- Alexander, what country?

To better understand the question, he poked himself in the chest with a finger:

– Russia, Russia, Rusland, – in Russian, English and German at once. And then he pointed his finger at Alexander - where are you from?

But the winegrower did not understand. And how could Ilya know that there was no Russia yet on Earth? In response to his question, Alexander muttered something, and they both did not understand each other. The winegrower simply waved his hand in annoyance and continued working.

They worked until the sun touched the mountain range in the distance.

- Basta! – Alexander announced and rubbed his hands. Well, when “that’s it” and the Russian understands, that’s the end of the job.

Alexander headed towards the valley, Ilya followed him.

Soon a village appeared, the houses of which were built of stones.

Alexander stopped and pointed to the ground. It’s like be here, stop. He himself went to the village. But he soon returned and handed Ilya a piece of blue cloth.

Ilya wrapped himself in cloth, passed it between his legs and tied it in front with a knot, fortunately there was a clear example before his eyes on Alexander.

They went to Alexander's house. There is a low fence made of stone, in the yard there is a barn - also made of stone, and a house made of stone... This is understandable, in every area they build from the material that is at hand. The northern peoples are made of logs, the forest is all around, the southern, steppe peoples are made of adobe, clay under their feet, the Papuans are made of reeds.

Alexander led Ilya into the house - quite low: in the doorway he had to bow his head so as not to hit the ceiling.

The furnishings in the house were spartan; Ilya would generally call it poor. A low bench, a table, and a straw mat on the floor. And no lamps or icons in the corner. So who is Alexander, an atheist or a pagan? Okay, that's his business. But there is not a single sign of civilization around... There is no TV, no radio, no electrical sockets or light bulbs on the ceiling, no telephone in sight... Is it that poor or is humanity simply not mature enough yet? So where is Ilya and what year is it now? Or at least a century?

Footsteps were heard from the street, and not just one person was walking, but a formation of soldiers - the friendly rattle of shoes on the pavement left no doubt about this.

Ilya ran out into the yard and was dumbfounded. He hoped to see the uniform and from it understand what country he was in, and from the weapon - what century it was. I saw hundreds of Roman legionnaires marching, as they are called in the films. Nonsense! But these characteristic bronze helmets with a visor at the back and side plates covering the face, these crossed belts over leather armor, these heavy rectangular shields, and, in the end, sandals with wooden soles that made a noise, and a belt from them on the calves - left no doubt ... He is in the Roman Empire, and the time is ancient centuries. My mother, where did he go?! Has Makosh really pulled a trick on him again?

Ilya was in complete prostration. He, a native Russian, found himself in an empire that was completely alien to him. As soon as you freed yourself from the spell of the pagan goddess of the Slavs, Mokosha, you are wearing ancient Rome... Yes, they themselves have paganism in full swing, and the pantheon of gods is larger than that of the Slavs. Jupiter, Saturn, Mars, Venus, Mercury, Bacchus, Cupid, Juno! And these are those who are well-known, whom he immediately remembered. But there is also Hymenaeus, Pluto, Aesculapius, Minerva, Vulcan, Diana, Faun, Vesta, Fides, Senecuta and a whole bunch of others.

On his land, albeit ancient, he felt at home. Nature, climate, people with their habits and traditions - everything was native and familiar. And here he felt lost and alone, and lost heart. How to continue to live, how to earn a living? The knowledge and skills of a ship mechanic are definitely not needed here; many centuries, or even millennia, still have to pass. Warrior skill? Yes, he fought a glorious war and shed a lot of blood. But did he still have the skills, truly heroic strength and invulnerability bestowed upon him by Makosh? She turned him into a tree and probably could have deprived him of his strength and other features. At one time, he was not known for being pugnacious or aggressive among students; he tried to settle any conflict peacefully.

Join the legionnaires? And who will take it without knowing the language? Stay with Alexander? There was no such proposal.

Ilya’s painful thoughts were interrupted by the winegrower. The warriors had long passed, the heavy tramp of their sandals died away in the distance, but Ilya still stood.

Alexander took him by the elbow and pushed him towards the house. Well, yes, it’s time to sleep, the winegrower has to work tomorrow. Work for him for a bowl of stew and a roof over your head? The winegrower looks about thirty-five to forty years old, but southerners usually look older than their years. Therefore, there should be a family, but it is not visible. There are many questions, no answers, and it is impossible to find out. Apparently, this is his destiny - to work as a laborer for Alexander and learn the spoken language so that he can communicate.

What if Alexander himself is a farm laborer and doesn’t need an assistant? He is clearly a kind man, he shared lunch with Ilya, brought him to his home... Not all of Ilya’s contemporaries would do the same, they are too calculating, cautious and pragmatic people. And the ancient Slavs, to be honest, were not always friendly either. Cruel times - cruel morals. However, Alexander doesn’t drive him crazy, and thank you for that. As they say, when there is day, there will be food. With such thoughts, Ilya fell asleep on a low wooden trestle bed with a piece of wood under his head instead of a pillow.

He slept soundly, had no dreams, and woke up refreshed. I would have slept more, but Alexander was already up.

For breakfast - a handful of dates, a stale flatbread and a jug of weak wine for two. After the wine, Ilya did not feel drunk, but the blood clearly flowed through his veins faster.

They both went to the vineyard; apparently, Alexander needed an assistant. And also - he understood Ilya’s plight.

Along the way, Ilya tried to learn the language. He pointed to the stone, and Alexander named it in his own language. He also pointed to the road, to the grapevine, to the sun - to everything that surrounded him. He repeated the words he heard several times, and if he pronounced them incorrectly, the winegrower corrected him. And while Ilya worked, he continued to repeat new words to himself.

When he was in his past life, there were language courses with complete immersion, tape audio recordings. And now fate told him to learn the language on the go. But he only suspected that this was not Latin, which was spoken by the Romans - the indigenous inhabitants. The empire included many provinces, each with its own language. However, the language of communication between them was Latin. All office work was carried out on it. Officials recorded and took into account everything: population censuses were carried out, accounting and consumption of incoming food, the number of livestock, taxes.

A little later, Ilya learned that Alexander was Greek, and he learned Greek. Many people spoke it in the empire, and after its collapse into Western and Eastern, it became the main language of Byzantium.

Ilya learned and saw a lot for the first time, but who knows in detail the history of a foreign and ancient country? For the time being, he also did not see Roman money, did not know its purchasing power. And the habit of the ancient Romans to eat reclining and communicate with guests in the same way completely surprised him.

He was also struck by the strict discipline, paved roads everywhere, aqueducts with clean water - you can’t list everything. The Slavs did not have this even a thousand years later.

Every day he went to the vineyard, learned new words and began to gradually communicate with Alexander. After dinner they talked a little before going to bed, their vocabulary expanded daily, and one day the Greek asked: what country is Ilya from?

– My country is called Rus'. It is far away, in the midnight side, and the Slavs live there.

– Who were you at home, what did you do?

– A warrior – like your legionnaires.

“There are many barbarian mercenaries among them.”

“Why did you call me a barbarian on the first day?”

“That’s what the Romans call everyone, even those born in the empire, for whom Latin is not their native language, because a barbarian cannot be an official.” You can hire a literature and rhetoric teacher, but it is expensive, and not everyone can afford it. And the accent still remains.

-What year is it now? Or in other words, which emperor rules? – For Ilya this was important.

– Last year they celebrated the millennium of Rome, and the emperor was Philip. Before him there was Maximilian - his face can be seen on coins. Okay, let's go to bed, I'm kind of tired today.

Until midnight, Ilya racked his brains, remembering when the millennium of Rome was and in what years Philip ruled. Fragmentary information flashed through his head, but he wasn’t sure of any of it - well, he’s not a historian! Still not remembering anything, but quite exhausted, he fell asleep.

Ilya was persistent in his studies and already understood Alexander’s simple speech well, answering him tolerably. Every day he demanded new words from the Greek, but the winegrower was a man of the earth, did not know how to read and write, and his vocabulary was small.

Ilya began to think - what should he do? It is clear that living with a winegrower for a long time is futile. The whole spirit of Ilya, the whole make-up of his character spoke of the fact that he was used to being active, but here every day is the same - monotonous work, and one day is like the others, like two kopecks. One thing was holding me back for now - there was no clothing or money; in a small village, many workers walked around in loincloths. Women wore something like dresses, and such a garment was called a “tunic.”

Officials wore similar clothes. Ilya saw one, an aedile by office, who came to collect taxes. But in the city he will look ridiculous in just a loincloth. And Alexander himself had only copper coins, and even that he gave to the aedile. Ilya did not yet see a way out of this situation, but he hoped that he would find it. He noticed one strange thing about himself that had not been there before - during the full moon he felt weak and worked through his strength. However, he himself found a cure for this.

On one of these days, when he walked from the vineyard, staggering from fatigue, and leaned against an oak tree to rest, he felt his strength begin to flow. Fatigue quickly disappeared, muscles filled with strength. And such cheerfulness appeared - even if you carry stones. Ilya understood - it’s not without reason that Mokosh’s spell is affecting him. From then on, as soon as the full moon approached, he approached the oak tree, pressed his whole body against it and hugged the tree trunk. It was the oak, and not other trees - hornbeam, walnut or cypress - that gave him strength. I was once an oak tree myself, and I felt some kinship. A powerful, strong tree with good energy, no match for aspen.

The time has come to harvest the crops and press the grape juice into wine. Alexander had many barrels in his large basement for aging.

-Are you selling? – Ilya once asked.

- No, the army takes it in bulk. They arrive in the spring in a huge convoy, take barrels full of wine and leave empty ones for the next harvest. They pay less than if I sold wine to small traders, but there are no worries. Yes, our whole village does this...

Of course, Ilya noticed that all the slopes of the hills and the valley were occupied by vineyards, and the residents of the village were engaged in viticulture. Each warrior was given two mugs of wine a day, and they drank it diluted with water. Wine quenched thirst in the hot season, and its supplies during campaigns prevented soldiers from suffering from intestinal disorders.

The empire imported large quantities of grain by ship from Egypt, its province, and produced everything else itself. Contracts for the supply of wine, fabrics, leather, weapons, and ammunition to the army were beneficial for manufacturers, and they fought for such supplies. The army absorbed everything like a bottomless barrel. However, quality was monitored.

Alexander and Ilya cut the ripe brushes, put them in willow baskets and transported them to the house on carts. There were large vats in the backyard. The grapes were dumped there, trampled, and the juice was carried into the basement in buckets. Different varieties of grapes were not mixed with each other; Alexander marked the barrels with charcoal - where is white wine and where is red.

But on one of these days, Ilya’s life changed dramatically. When he wheeled a cart with harvested grapes into the yard, a Roman in a white tunic and leather sandals entered behind him.

At that time Alexander was coming around the corner of the house. He always inspected the harvest first, because, depending on the variety, they poured out the brushes and pressed the juice in different vats.

“Hello, master,” the newcomer greeted, immediately recognizing Alexander as the owner of the house and vineyard. - Sell the slave! “He pointed at Ilya.

Ilya almost choked with indignation, but Alexander answered calmly:

“Even though he is a barbarian, he is not a slave and is free to choose his own job and a roof over his head.”

But such an answer did not discourage the uninvited guest - he turned to Ilya:

“Would you like to work for my mistress?”

– What should he do and how much will he be paid for it? Alexander intervened.

“He will be a palanquin bearer, and he will be paid like everyone else.”

- I would like to hear - how much?

Alexander understood that Ilya did not know the prices on the labor market, and did not want Ilya to make a mistake if he agreed.

– Two duponds a month. A roof over your head, good food... Not far from the house of the lady of the baths.

The stranger began to praise the conditions, but Alexander grimaced:

- Dear! Two duponds are funny. If you think that we live in a village, then we don’t know the prices? You probably wanted to say two sesterces?

- May Jupiter strike you with lightning! Where have you seen such prices?

Both began to bargain fiercely, although Ilya had not yet said his word. He even felt funny, it turned out just like the saying “They got me married without me”...

He quickly calculated the options in his head. Here in the village he has no prospects. Well, he will work in the vineyard until he is old and dies. But for some reason, fate wanted to throw him into a foreign country in ancient times? After all, it’s not for making wine for legionnaires... And therefore we need to move to the city. Water does not flow under a lying stone, and now fate in the form of this gentleman is giving him a chance. He would have agreed for two dupondii, although he did not know the purchasing power of this monetary unit. There will be a roof over his head and food, and this is essential for him for now.

Alexander and the stranger with a purely southern temperament were arguing, waving their arms and making amusing gestures. Only Ilya couldn’t understand a word, because they were arguing in Latin, which he didn’t know.

He coughed, the debaters turned their heads towards him and, as if on command, fell silent.

– Alexander, your final word?

- One sestertius and two dupondius!

-Then I agree.

The stranger approached Ilya, walked around him, assessing his position. Ilya felt unpleasant, as if they were buying a horse.

- Good, even too good for a porter... Come with me.

But as soon as Ilya moved towards the exit, the stranger cried out:

- And the clothes?! Do you really have nothing but a loincloth?

In response to this, Ilya just threw up his hands.

- Beggar - and immediately familia urbana! You're lucky, boy. By the way, what's your name?

Familia urbana is a kind of servant who serves the house, serves food on the table, prepares food, cleans, guards the house, and entertains guests. They stood a step higher than those who worked as a shepherd, winegrower, weaver, carpenter, and tailor.

The servants could be either free citizens or slaves. The slaves of Rome were from among the captives captured. And if the city of Rome itself numbered about six hundred thousand free citizens, then slaves made up half.

Free citizens could fall into slavery for debts to creditors; a father could sell his children into slavery; for serious crimes, a free person could be enrolled in slavery with confiscation of property. A free woman who became involved with a slave and did not stop this connection after warning became the slave of the one who owned the slave.

Slaves had no external identification marks and in their free time could visit stadiums, baths, and theaters.

The slave trade brought in a lot of income. They were brought from Africa, Spain, Syria, Galatea and other places. And for each slave imported into the empire, the slave trader paid the treasury a quarter of its value, and the price of the slave reached 18–20 gold solidi.

Ilya was given a ridiculous amount of money as a salary.

The Roman monetary system was simple. One gold aureus was worth twenty-five denarii, a silver sestertius was worth four asses, and a dupondium was equal to two copper aces.

But Ilya didn’t care about these ratios. There will be a roof over his head, food, and he will be in the city. He had a desire to get to Rome - for some reason he was convinced that he would be in demand there. I remembered the Latin saying - all roads lead to Rome.

They left the yard. The stranger, whose name was Ajax, stopped at the palanquin standing on the ground:

“Madam, I hired a barbarian, a free man, as a porter. Will you approve of my choice?

The light silk curtain opened slightly and a woman's face appeared. It was gloomy inside the palanquin, and Ilya did not have time to see the woman.

“Yes, he’s coming, Ajax.” I'm already tired of waiting, it's time for us to go.

A porter, now a former one, was sitting on the side of the road, holding his leg, which he had carelessly sprained.

Three men stood next to the arms of the palanquin. One of them was black, the other two were from the Maghreb countries.

- Elijah, don’t stand there, take the hand. The stretcher was carefully lifted. So, Ilya, you are a newbie, I’ll explain. Don't keep pace, you're not in line, otherwise the palanquin will sway. Went!

Ajax pronounced his name in the Roman manner - Elijah. All the porters were tall, physically strong and carried the stretcher easily. Ajax walked ahead. His task was to clear the way for the lady, if necessary, and also to warn her if a noble lady was being carried towards her, to whom she had to bow, otherwise it would look like discourtesy.

The road had already taken two hours when the city appeared ahead.

- Messina! – Ajax announced solemnly, and probably more for Ilya to impress him.

The city, by the standards of the empire, was important and large - one hundred twenty-five thousand inhabitants, and this despite the fact that Rome itself had six hundred thousand and was the largest city in the world. And for Ilya Messina is like a modern regional center, a small provincial town. But when it dawned on him where this city was, he almost cursed - Messina is located on the northern tip of the island of Sicily, separated from the continent by the Strait of Messina.

Once upon a time, when he was a ship mechanic, he was once in these places. Now the bad thing for him was that he couldn’t walk to Rome from here.

We entered the city. Its streets were narrow but straight and lined with stone buildings. The city was full of people - soldiers, fishermen with boxes full of fish, merchants of all kinds. Noise, vanity...

After a quiet village, the noise deafened Ilya. It turns out that you quickly get used to civilization with all its attributes - noise, smells, bustle of people. In addition, the multilingualism was confusing. One could hear Greek speech, and Latin, and Arabic, and completely incomprehensible... Truly - Babylon!

But Ajax walked forward, shouting imperiously and clearing the way for the stretcher.

The people for the most part were short in stature, the tall porters were a head taller, and Ilya was two heads taller. Passers-by, especially women, stared at him. Tall, muscular, fair-haired and gray-eyed, with skin covered with an even tan, he stood out against the background of the local residents, short, brown-eyed brunettes.

- The barbarian is as handsome as Apollo! – he heard a woman’s voice.

Maybe some of the men were flattered by such attention, but not Ilya in his current position. After Marya, who was killed before his eyes, he could not look at other women; they were indifferent to him, as if everything inside had burned out. And in the village where he spent almost six months with Alexander, there were almost no women. And if there were, they were married, blurred after many births, crushed by hard daily work.

To Ilya's surprise, they walked through the entire city and reached its outskirts. Here, far from the port and city noise, were the villas of rich people - he could not call these palaces differently, located on large green areas, surrounded by flowers and gardens. Until then, in Russia and in Rus', where he managed to visit, he had not seen such beauty. Flowers and trees, the names of which he did not know and had never seen, were fragrant, spreading subtle, pleasant aromas around.

The villas were located on a gentle hillside, from where the city and the sea beyond were perfectly visible, and far away, in the haze, the continent, the main lands of the empire.

At a sign from Ajax, the bearers stopped at the entrance and lowered the palanquin.

Two young maids ran out of the portico and helped the mistress out, although she could easily have done it herself.

Ilya expected to see an elderly matron, but he saw a charming woman of about thirty. Well-groomed, fragrant with incense, in a soft pink tunic, she could compete with Aphrodite herself, emerging from the sea foam.

The hostess cast a fleeting glance at Ilya and walked into the house. No, this building could not be called a house; rather, it was a palace on one floor, with porticoes and columns, with numerous statues around the perimeter.

As soon as the mistress came inside, the harp began to sound - it was the slave-harpist who delighted the mistress’s ears. Hmmm, you can’t stop living beautifully!

The bearers lifted the empty palanquin. However, he did not become much lighter; the owner was not a large or obese woman.

Ajax disappeared into the house, the porters went around the house. Behind it were outbuildings and a servants' house. The stretcher was left in the barn, where there was a chariot decorated with wooden carvings. “For the owner,” Ilya guessed.

The porters went into a small room.

“Your place,” the Libyan said in Greek, with an accent.

Low trestle beds with thin mattresses stuffed with dried seaweed stood in the corners. In the middle is a table. There was nothing else in the room - a wardrobe or chest for clothes, benches or chairs.

Ilya lay down with pleasure - after a long journey his legs were tired, working in the vineyard, he was unaccustomed to long treks.

The mattress smelled like a stranger, apparently a porter who had sprained his leg had slept here before.

- Why are you lying down, let’s go eat.

But Ilya himself was going to ask about food - he was hungry.

The porters went into the servants' refectory. Two long tables with benches along them. According to the most conservative estimates, the refectory could accommodate fifty people.

The porters sat down at the table, and two slaves put bowls of lentil stew and flatbreads in front of them. It looks like there have never been spoons here.

Ilya, in order not to disgrace himself, began to watch the porters eat. They broke off a piece of flatbread, dipped it into the stew and put it in their mouths. At the same time, the bowls emptied quickly.

Ilya decided to do it easier - he took a bite of the flatbread and drank from the bowl. The taste was unusual, but edible. He tried lentil soup for the first time.

The porters looked at each other: it was not customary to eat food like that among Roman slaves.

Libyan said:

- Barbarian.

Ilya grinned - he didn’t want to get into a fight with them on the first day. He will have to live with the porters for some time and carry the palanquin. And he ate the way it was most convenient for him, everything was better than soaking a flatbread in stew.

As soon as they had time to finish eating, the slaves immediately removed the bowl from the refectory and put on the table bowls of stewed beans, generously seasoned with red ground pepper on top.

Ilya tried it - spicy, even too much. But the porters ate with pleasure. For Ilya, the food is unusual, he will have to get used to it, because with his rules they don’t go to someone else’s monastery and no one here will cook the dishes he is familiar with.

They immediately brought a jug of already diluted wine and poured it into mugs. Wine diluted with water was called vinegar, and drinking it was believed to be good for health.

After lunch or dinner they went to the room. The sun was still high, and it was difficult to navigate the time. The sunset was fast in these southern regions. As soon as the disk of the sun touched the hills, it was almost immediately dark. In Rus' it gets dark slowly, but here it’s as if a light bulb has been turned off.

As they entered the designated room, Ilya tripped over the leg offered by the Libyan, and the two other porters laughed merrily.

Ilya resisted, did not fall, but, passing by the Libyan, quickly and sharply hit him in the stomach with his elbow. The Libyan bent over in pain - he couldn’t breathe in or out.

– Didn’t you get sick after eating pepper? – Ilya asked him sympathetically.

The porters may not have seen the impact, but they were alarmed. Ilya went to his trestle bed and lay down.

None of the porters approached the Libyan or helped, and Ilya concluded that here everyone is on his own and there is no need to expect help from anyone.

The Libyan walked away, straightened up, and caught his breath. His eyes sparkled with undisguised malice.

Ilya didn’t run into trouble himself, but he didn’t want to let anyone offend and ridicule him. He must stand up for himself, otherwise they will sit on him and push him.

The Libyan approached Ilya.

- How dare you hit me? – he hissed.

- You started first. If you do that again, I’ll break your neck,” Ilya answered calmly.

Apparently, the Libyan, as an old-timer, was the leader of the porters, and therefore for him to miss the threat from the newcomer means to fall low in the eyes of his comrades. Not knowing that the newcomer was a fighter, a warrior, he rushed at Ilya.

Ilya, on the contrary, was ready for an attack. As he was, lying on the trestle bed, he bent his knees, took the Libyan on his feet and threw him away as if from a catapult.

The Libyan, although he was a tall guy, was thin and wiry, flew to the opposite wall, hit it and slid down like jelly.

-Are you hurt? I’ll help...” Ilya stood up and approached the Libyan.

From hitting his back and head against the wall, he was in slight shock, his eyes wandered. However, he quickly recovered from the shock, stared at Ilya, and then covered his face with his hands:

“Don’t hit me anymore, otherwise I’ll complain to the lady.”

- I have witnesses - two of them. – Ilya pointed his hand towards the porters. “You attacked first, I only defended myself.” Therefore, they will punish you.

- No no! I was joking, I'm not going anywhere...

- Well, look, joker...

Ilya lay down on the trestle bed. That's it, the Libyan is broken. He wanted to rule, but, having received a rebuff, he was blown away.

Ilya did not know that the punishments for the guilty were cruel. The Libyan was a slave, and attacked a free citizen - for this, at best, he was beaten with a whip. Rarely anyone could withstand twenty blows from a whip made of thick bull leather, and if he remained alive, the scars on the body did not heal for a long time.

Of the four porters, all except Ilya were slaves. They served the mistress - the master had his own staff of servants. And the gentleman was not there at the moment; he was a senator and spent most of the year in Rome. The lady was left to her own devices.

As Ilya later learned, she was not particularly saddened by the separation. She received guests and went to them herself, as was the case today.

Ajax was a free citizen, managing the slaves of his mistress.

Ilya was thinking. He came to Rus' in ancient times not on his own, not by choice, but by saving his life from cold and starvation. Yes, he took advantage of the help of the goddess Mokosh, helped the pagans to the best of his ability, although he himself was not a pagan and did not share their beliefs. He got excited in Yaroslavl, lost his temper, for which he was punished, although he considered the punishment unfair and excessive. But the power of the spell dried up over time, it ended. Then why didn't he return to his time? He would have lived in his hometown, worked... Why did he end up here, in the Roman Empire, if it were wrong? Or did Makosh play a trick? This is evil!

No, we need to forget about the ancient gods, get them out of our heads. Who in his time knew them by name and worshiped them? In all of Russia there are not several hundred people, and even those for the most part are cliques and play to the public. That is why the ancient gods lost their power: there are no donations, no one offers prayers, no one casts magic. From powerful gods, they became forgotten gods, shadows from the past, covered with dust and cobwebs. But what does Rome have to do with it? Here are the same pagans, only of a different kind, with their own pantheon of gods - for Elijah this is all the more alien. He didn’t get along with his gods, why does he need strangers? And why does his fate turn out this way? Is he playing, testing his strength, or pushing him towards something that he is not yet able to understand?

While he was thinking, he didn’t notice how he fell asleep.

I woke up in the dark from rustling sounds. Someone touched his hand and whispered:

Since they’re calling, it means we have to go, what if the lady feels like going on a visit at night?

Ilya went out into the corridor, dimly lit by oil lamps on tripods. Ajax stood nearby.

- Quiet! – He put his finger to his lips.

Why such mystery?

Ilya followed Ajax along a bizarrely winding corridor. His business is small: they pay him for his work, he feeds him, so he must do what he is told.

Oh, Ilya didn’t know the Romans well!

Ajax walked into the room and closed the door behind him. The room is almost completely dark, and there is a suffocating smell of body oils. Ilya was also surprised: as he noticed, there were almost no doors in the rustine, or, in other words, the servants' house.

Ajax suddenly hugged Ilya, stood up on his toes and pressed his lips into his mouth. Damn, free Roman morals!

Ilya tore Ajax’s hands away from himself, pushed him away - he almost vomited from disgust. Gays and other perverts are already at home - from the TV screen and the covers of glamorous magazines.

“You’re wrong, Ajax, I don’t do that kind of thing.”

Ilya felt disgusted. And this is called the “enlightened Roman Empire?” He turned and opened the door.

- You will regret it! - Ajax hissed after him.

Ugh! Ilya's first day at the villa and he has already made two enemies - the Libyan and Ajax. But before, I sincerely believed that he was a non-conflict person. Just interrupted my sleep, you bastard!

Ilya found his room with difficulty: the house was unfamiliar to him, and in the twilight all the rooms seemed the same. It even happened - he wandered into someone else’s room, but realized: all the trestle beds were occupied, which means the room was not his. All that was missing was to break into the women’s house, they would have started screaming without understanding it, and in the morning Ilya would have been, at best, unemployed. No, after all, it was more decent in Rus', at least the blue ones didn’t pester you...

In the morning, ablution at the bronze washbasin, breakfast. Almost all the servants had gathered for breakfast, and Ilya saw them. There are a lot of European faces, but a third are Africans and Arabs.

As a newcomer, they also shamelessly scrutinized him. This didn’t bother Ilya; on the contrary, it was good. If you meet someone in a house or atrium - a covered courtyard - they will recognize you as one of their own.

Breakfast consisted of fruits - apples and pears, as well as nuts with honey. And the obligatory glass of wine.

Then Ajax, assuming an indifferent look, as if nothing had happened during the night, gave Ilya a red tunic. It was a kind of uniform for porters for rich gentlemen.

Mostly women, and even sick men, moved in palanquins. And the richer the palanquins looked, the more porters there were. The not very rich carried two, in everyday life the rich carried four. And for the ceremonial “takeouts” they could use eight people - two on each handle. For long journeys, they took two or three shifts of porters, changing them along the way.

The palanquin was called a lectica by the Romans and was usually made from precious woods such as rosewood or ebony. It was decorated with carvings and gilding, both sides had muslin made of light fabrics, and the roof was wooden to protect from the sun or rain.

During the entire day, the lady did not leave the villa. Thus, the day turned out to be almost free, and Ilya, taking advantage of this, explored the villa.

The palace itself had the shape of a quadrangle with a courtyard inside, called the atrium. Above it was a roof with a hole in the center through which rainwater flowed into a pool below.

Ilya did not enter the manor's house, for fear of bumping into his mistress. According to his position, he had nothing to do there, and he could easily run into an unpleasant conversation.

The palace was huge, judging by its external dimensions - about a thousand square meters. Just the home of an oligarch!

Ilya also examined outbuildings, from the bakery to the stables - knowledge is never superfluous. I really liked the garden, especially since slave gardeners worked in it. The oldest of them, seeing Ilya’s interest in his work, led him along the paths, showing him plants.

- This is acanthus. Opposite it is tamarisk, and a little further away is myrtle; Do you see what kind of leaves it has? Behind it is a gazebo made of ivy, and then papyrus rustles.

The slave was talkative and knowledgeable in his work.

Ilya saw such trees and shrubs for the first time - well, they don’t grow in Rus'! The climate here in Sicily is favorable. Warm, moisture from the sea, virtually no winter.

The slave also turned out to be curious:

- I saw you in the morning. Are you new?

- Yes, as a porter for the lady.

- From what country? I admit, this is the first time I’ve seen a person with blond hair.

- From Rus'.

The gardener rolled his eyes, trying to remember, but then threw up his hands:

– It’s probably very far...

- Yes, in that direction. – Ilya pointed to the north.

The gardener spoke Greek well, but Ilya needed a friend who could teach him conversational Latin - he wanted to be able to understand and communicate with the Italians.

And such a friend was found - the next day in the evening.

After dinner, when Ilya was wondering whether to take a walk in the garden or go to bed, one of the servants passed by him. Stopping, he asked Ilya:

- Don't you want to wash yourself?

- With pleasure! But where?

- As where"? In the thermal baths. The lady has already left, so the hot water won't go to waste?

On the territory of the villa there was a small bathhouse called “therma”. Small compared to the size of the palace itself. And according to Ilya, it was no less urban in his time. Inside there is marble, statues, several large rooms. Two swimming pools - one with warm water, the other with cold water, a massage room and several more, the purpose of which he did not immediately understand.

The thermal bath servant offered towels. The stranger who invited him called himself:

- My name is Fidiem.

- And I’m Ilya.

– I’ve seen you several times, you live in the porters’ room. Are you goth?

- No, I'm Russian.

-You have light skin.

- And where are you from?

- From Rome. No, I know what you want to ask. I am a slave, I was enslaved for debt. If I give the predictor money, I will become free again.

- So are you Italian?

– Do you judge by the Greek language? I speak both languages well, read and write. Okay, enough chatting, the water will cool down. Let's go wash.

There were only men in the baths. Everyone walked around naked.

First they went into an incomprehensible room where there were amphorae with olive oil and a stack of wooden spatulas.

Phidias took oil from the amphora with his palm, rubbed it all over his body, and then with a wooden spatula began to scrape off the oil along with the dirt from the body.

The method is unique, but everyone around him did the same, and Ilya did like everyone else. But in his opinion, it’s better to use a washcloth and lye.

Then they jumped into a pool of warm water. It was five by three meters in size, and the bottom was in the form of steps. If you want, go down to the depths, where you hide completely, but if you want, sit where it’s shallow.

The water is hot. It turns out that it was heated from below, through a system of bronze pipes coming from the boiler.

After the warm pool, Phidias moved into a pool with cold water, but quickly jumped out of it and began doing physical exercises. Then I rubbed it dry with a towel.

Ilya repeated all the actions of Phidias. In principle, he liked it, at least he felt clean - for the first time in many days.

Then they went for a walk in the garden. The air here was saturated with the aromas of flowers, the smell of violets was intoxicating.

– Fidiy, what are your responsibilities?

- Charioteer. Have you seen the owner's chariot?

- When he returns, I will drive him. But he doesn’t like the chariot, he says it shakes. More often than not, guests come to him; they never leave the triclinium.

– What is “triclinium”?

-Have you never been to a Roman house?

- I didn’t have to. I lived in a village.

- I'll show you tomorrow. This is the place where the rich eat. Around the table on three sides there are loungers - wedges, on which the owner and guests recline.

The next day after breakfast, Fidiy winked at Ilya:

– Have you thought about watching the triclinium?

- Won’t they blow us up? It's a manor's house after all.

- Ha, we are servants... How else can we clean the house and light incense sticks? Who do you think is doing this?

“You are a charioteer, I am a porter, our job is to work on the street.”

– In the house you cannot go into the mistress’s bedroom and into the tablin - this is the owner’s room. And also to the library and art gallery.

Ilya was surprised: there was a library and an art gallery in the villa! Still, Rome was far ahead of other countries in its development. Capturing new lands, countries, prisoners, the Romans absorbed all the best, most advanced and introduced them into their own. Aqueducts, water pipelines, communications, roads, thermal baths were not only for the rich - everyone enjoyed the benefits of civilization.

Phidias led him to a large room without doors:

– Admire – the banquet hall, the triclinium.

Marble floor, painted walls... In the center there is a square low table, on three sides there are soft beds. Yes, they live beautifully, luxuriously.

– Can I look at the library - at least with one eye?

Phidias hesitated:

- Okay, just quickly.

There were cabinets around the perimeter of the library, but without doors, and there were scrolls of papyrus and parchment in great abundance. There was a huge oval table in the center. Of course, there were no books yet, their time had not come.

Ilya was satisfied with the inspection - gradually he will inspect the entire villa. But the impression even from what he saw remained strong: one could feel the owner’s wealth, taste – but also a sense of proportion. Ilya could compare, he had been in boyars' and merchants' houses - ours were considerably inferior, no matter how sad it is to admit.

In the morning after breakfast, Ajax gathered the porters:

“The lady is leaving for Pota, prepare the stretcher.”

When the bearers brought the palanquin and placed it in front of the portico, the Libyan from Nubia muttered:

- Five dozen Roman miles! Far!

The Roman mile was equal to a thousand passes, or, in other words, double steps, and was 1597 meters.

A group of slaves approached the porters - a shift. Among them was Phidias.

The porters were selected according to their height - there were the same ones in each shift, otherwise the palanquin would be tilted.

We set off – through Messina and west along the coast. Ajax walked ahead, behind him the porters carried a palanquin with the mistress, and behind was a change of porters. They walked, according to Ilya’s estimates, quickly, at least six kilometers per hour. When the porters got tired, they were changed, but in general the whole procession moved quickly. Ilya also thought that traveling in a horse-drawn carriage would be faster and more comfortable. But he didn’t choose the method of transportation; gentlemen have their own quirks.

Long after noon they stopped next to a spring. Dea, as the lady was called, ate fruit - pears, grapes, baked chestnuts, and the procession moved on.

After two hours of fast walking, they stopped at a crossroads near a tavern. The porters were fed lunch - stew with beans, cheese with flatbread and a piece of boiled meat, and were offered a mug of wine. Dea ate separately - in the room for noble gentlemen.

Surprisingly, with lunch, with stops on the orders of the lady late in the evening, they arrived in Pota.

Dea was waiting here. Before the bearers had time to lower the palanquin to the ground, the mistress of the villa, the same age as the guest, ran out of the portico. They hugged, kissed and immediately went into the house.

The porters were tired after a long journey and covered with road dust. They were fed in the servants' house and then taken to the baths.

As soon as Ilya lay down on the designated trestle bed after washing, his eyes immediately closed and he instantly fell asleep.

No one touched them for three days, and then they went back. The work of a porter is not easy; strength and endurance are required.

Ilya and Fidiy became friends. At first, Ilya had his own interest - he wanted Phidias to teach him colloquial Latin.

Phidias was not against it. In his free time, he taught Ilya words, constructing phrases, drew letters in the sand with a twig and put them into words. Sometimes he laughed at Ilya when he distorted his words, but Ilya was stubborn.

Sometimes Phidias began to reminisce. He told Ilya about the way of life of the Romans, about their habits, about entertainment. For Ilya, such stories were a revelation - where else would he have learned first-hand about the way of life of the Italians?

As soon as he had the opportunity to read the inscription on the pediment of the house, on the tavern, he stopped and read. At first it was slow, but soon he noticed that he was beginning to understand what the Italians were talking about in front of him. If he didn’t understand the meaning of some words, he asked Phidias. He chuckled:

– Do you want to become a literature teacher?

What Ilya didn’t like were the looks from his mistress that he caught on himself. This is not how a master looks at a servant - it was the look of a woman appraising a man. Ilya stood out among the inhabitants of the villa - in height, physique, eye and hair color, behavior.

The Italians and the slave servants who adopted their habits ate simply huge amounts of onions and garlic. It was believed that these seasonings protected against diseases, and their smell repelled evil spirits. The smell, however, was still there. Ilya did not like onions or garlic, and for women the sense of smell plays an important role.

About two months after Ilya appeared at the villa after dinner, a maid approached him:

- Madam is waiting for you.

Ilya followed the girl.

The hostess was reclining on a couch in the triclinium. On the table there was a jug of diluted wine and bowls of fruit. In the corner, two musicians - a flutist and a harpist - were playing a quiet melody.

Upon entering, Ilya stopped and greeted the hostess:

“Ave, Dea,” it was not customary to bow in the empire.

Ilya thought that he would be given some kind of assignment.

Dea was wearing a thin translucent cape through which her figure was visible, and she smelled of expensive rose oil.

It was the first time Ilya had seen Mrs. Ilya so close. After he became a man again from an oak tree, women did not interest him, indifference set in. And then, however, gradually subsiding, but the mental wound still stung greatly. And therefore, he could not compare any of the women around him in the house with Marya. They were beautiful, even very beautiful, but you weren’t attracted to them, but a woman has to be hooked with something.

Seeing Ilya, Dea spoke in Latin:

“Why are you frozen at the entrance, Ilya?” Come and share a meal with me!

Wow, I recognized the name... Usually the mistress conveyed all orders and wishes through Ajax, without condescending to the servants. And why does she address him in Latin? Doesn't know Greek or wants to check if Ilya has mastered Latin?

- I'm full, madam. – Ilya put his right hand to his heart so that Dea would not take his refusal as an insult or insubordination.

“Then we’ll just talk.” I must admit that your Latin is still as terrible as that of a longshoreman.

“I haven’t found a good teacher yet, madam.” If you don’t know, I am a barbarian, from a distant and northern people, and your language is new to me.

– Ajax reported to me that you are taking lessons from Phidias.

What a beast! Spying on him, trying to make fun of him for refusing sodomy?

“He and I are friends, and at the same time I’m learning Latin.”

- Commendable! Lie down on the wedge and tell me about your country. Does everyone look like you?

So that's it! The lady took a liking to him as something of a curiosity and wanted to have a love affair! Free Roman morals allowed this, but Ilya immediately thought about her husband. The senator will return home to the villa, and well-wishers will immediately tell him everything, in the form of gossip. And how will he react to the fact that the barbarian porter cuckolded his little wife?

Ilya still lay down on the adjacent wedge.

When a woman wants to seduce, she mostly succeeds. Dea poured the wine into glass glasses herself. Glass products were very expensive and were only found in rich houses. She pushed one of the glasses towards Ilya:

– Have a drink and tell me about your homeland.

Ilya spoke briefly about the nature of Rus'. He rightly believed that Dea was not seriously interested in his homeland, and her question was just the beginning, a hook for conversation.

-Barbarian, you are timid. How can men love you? How do they caress?

Dea sat up on the couch:

- Stop playing, get out!

The girls came out. That's it, now gossip will spread among the servants!

Dea moved to Ilya’s bed:

- Am I not good? Or are your women more beautiful?

In one movement, she threw off her translucent cape, appearing naked before Ilya. The Italians were not shy about the naked body, considering it natural.

Dea was really good. Small in stature, with excellent proportions, flexible as a reed.

Despite her youth, Dea was already experienced in love affairs. She clung to Ilya and pressed her lips to his lips.

The masculine principle surged within Ilya. It was difficult to resist, and his hands themselves fell on Dea’s chest. He turned her over onto her back.

The first intercourse was short - he had not had a woman for too long. Dea was slightly disappointed.

– Don’t you go to the lupanarium? Why?

“Lupanaria” in Ancient Rome was called a brothel, and in every city of the empire there were several of them, not counting the “she-wolves” - free, corrupt priestesses of love.

- They are not interesting to me.

Shouldn’t I tell Dea about love, about Marya? It seemed to him that the Roman matron, satiated with pleasures, would not understand him.

-Drink some more wine.

Ilya took a sip from his glass, rested for half an hour, and for the second time he passed at the highest level. The hostess's enthusiastic cries echoed throughout the house, but Ilya didn't care anymore. If she screams so loudly that all the servants can hear, then what should he beware of?

When it was all over and both had caught their breath, Dea said:

– Is everyone like that in your country? In the morning I will find you a job in the house.

“Ajax hired me as a porter, and I like this job.”

“I am the mistress of the house, and Ajax only does what I order.”

- Dea, I am not a slave, but a free citizen.

-Why do you need to wear a palanquin? During the day you will gain strength, and at night you will please me...

In principle, everything would have suited Ilya, but one thing itched his soul - Dea actually bought him, like a man buys a prostitute. The feeling is not pleasant.

His silence was interpreted by Dea as a reluctance to agree.

- Okay, what do you want in return? Money, a slave?

– Do you have a good literature or rhetoric teacher?

- What? – Dea thought she had misheard.

Ilya repeated his question.

- Certainly! And why do you need it?

- I want to take lessons. You pay.

- This is a Greek, Hector from Syracuse, I already pay him good money. He is boring and old, but speaks three languages perfectly. If this is your condition, I agree.

And then there was a third intercourse, a fourth... By morning Dea was exhausted, her eyes were drooping.

- Go to Hector. You are strange, Ilya! None of the husbands was eager to take literature lessons.

Free male citizens of the empire were called husbands. Whether he was married or not did not matter.

However, the first thing Ilya did was go to breakfast - contrary to the Roman proverb “A full belly is deaf to learning.” He spent a lot of energy last night!

While I was eating, I caught the sidelong glances of the maids and saw their grins. Oh, these women’s tongues, they’ve already spoken to all their friends... But you can’t throw a scarf over every mouth, you’ll have to endure it. Then he sat for a while on the bench by the fountain and rested. The hostess with her lust fell on her head! But by the way, why judge her - she’s young, her husband isn’t around. She doesn’t work, she doesn’t get tired - where should she put her strength and energy? One good thing about the current situation is that he will study Latin with a teacher.

The house of educated servants - teachers, managers of slaves and households, clerks - stood apart.

Ilya found Hector’s room and introduced himself.

- Yes, the maid told me that you would come. I just don’t get it, why do you need Latin?

- Why do you need it? To communicate.

– Are you aiming for Rome?

“A bad hoplite is one who does not dream of becoming a centurion,” Ilya reinterpreted the famous proverb.

- Yes, you are a philosopher! Sit down.

Before this, the conversation was in Greek. But then Hector switched to Latin, asking Ilya what region he was from, what the nature of his homeland was like. As it turned out, he gave Ilya a language test.

“You know a minimum of words, the accent is terrible, the construction of phrases is incorrect,” Hector summed up the disappointing result.

- That’s why I came. I still need to master literate writing and counting.

- Commendable.

To begin with, Hector wrote a few words on a wax tablet.

Ilya fulfilled this request easily, since the Latin script is the basis of many European languages, English in particular.

“That’s good,” Hector approved, “there’s no need to learn the letters.”

On another wax tablet he wrote three dozen more words:

- Learn by tomorrow.

And so it went. During the day, Ilya and Hector learned words and their meaning, learned to pronounce them purely and correctly, as the Romans say.

The score was worse. Ilya was used to Arabic numerals, and with Roman numerals, especially if they were large, it turned out worse. And he spent almost every night in Dea's bedroom. I had to sleep during the day and in fits and starts between classes. He lost a little weight, but his muscles began to appear even more prominently.

Dea openly admired him:

– You are built like Cupid and Apollo combined! I can’t take my eyes off such beauty! Come to me, my handsome man!

One morning, after a stormy night, Dea presented Ilya with a gold neck chain as a gift.

- Carry it and remember me.

- Thank you, madam! – Ilya put his hand to his heart.

Dea snorted:

-What kind of mistress am I to you? Rather, you are my god and master... Put it on, I want to admire you.

The chain was massive, heavy, but at the same time skillfully made.

When Ilya showed up for breakfast, the maids did not take their eyes off the gift and whispered to each other.

Chapter 2. Rome

Two more months passed, and according to Roman standards, winter came. But Ilya just grinned: there is no snow, the plants are blooming, it feels like twenty degrees Celsius. What kind of winter is this? True, there were winds, and the sea was restless and stormy.

Ilya’s life got better - well-fed, carefree, and with a mistress-mistress to boot. Anyone else in his place would not have wished for anything better. And Dea periodically showered him with gifts: she would put a ring with a stone on her finger, or a massive carved ring. Ilya was already uncomfortable, like a Christmas tree toy, sparkling. But you can’t take it off, Dea will be offended. And he didn’t wear jewelry before, believing that it was not a man’s business to decorate himself. A man is famous for his deeds and actions, not for his trinkets - even expensive ones. But the servants were jealous.

Studying with Hector was going well. Ilya mastered conjugations and declensions and was already writing texts on wax tablets. Hector walked around the room and pronounced the text - more and more difficult from time to time, a kind of dictation. Hector checked him right away, and the comments became fewer and fewer every day.

Sometimes classes turned into conversations. Somehow they touched upon Hector’s fellow countryman, Archimedes. This is where Ilya shined - from the Archimedes propeller to the winch and ballistas.

Hector was surprised:

– Have people in your distant country heard of Archimedes?

– Not only have they heard, but they also use the mechanisms he invented.

Ilya almost blurted out about Leonardo da Vinci, but he was not born yet.

During their conversations, he and Hector became close. Ilya still had a higher education, was smart, and could explain the nature of phenomena.

Phidias sometimes became offended:

- You are always with Dea, then with Hector... You completely forgot me!

“I’m learning Latin, it’ll come in handy,” Ilya smiled reconcilingly.

“I feel like you’ll go far, I’ll hear about you again.”

- Tick on your tongue!

They both laughed, but then that’s exactly what happened.

But then the day came, which Ilya constantly remembered and which he feared in his soul: in the evening, a out of breath messenger ran to Dea’s villa with the news that a ship had arrived at the port, on which the hostess’s husband was.

There was immediate commotion in the villa. Dea gave the order to the cooks to prepare the dishes that her husband loved, while she herself went to the baths to take a bath with rose petals.

The palace servants also ran in. They added oil to the lamps, cut fresh flowers in the garden and placed them in vases, and once again brushed away the dust invisible to the eyes with feathers.

Ilya could not find a place for himself. Now the cuckolded husband, the servant, will appear and report to him about the relationship between Dea and the servant. How will he react? In Rus', at best, they beat you in the face. And considering that the mistress’s husband is a senator, he personally will not get his hands dirty. For this purpose, there are servants and probably some kind of personal guard and escort. At least, Ilya assumed so.

Senator Marcus Brutus Servilius Gracchus arrived about three hours later - a chariot with Phidias was sent to the pier for him. The chariot drove slowly, and servants ran behind it, carrying the senator's luggage.

All the servants, all the household members lined up in front of the entrance in two lines - to the left and to the right of the path.

Seeing him, Ilya was disappointed. He was short, fat, with a woman’s face and curled hair. On top of the tunic is a white senator's toga with a purple stripe, and on the feet are leather sandals with gilded straps. And age - over fifty.

The senator, standing on the chariot, raised his right hand in greeting:

And he strode importantly to the house, where he was met by the embellished Dea at the colonnade - outwardly, she was old enough to be his daughter. But a senator is power and wealth, they decide the fate of the empire and the civilized world.

There was music playing in the house, but it soon died down. The duty lamps were dimly lit. It looks like the gentlemen have gone to bed.

The servants also scattered. Ilya was pleased - for the first time in many days he managed to get a proper night's sleep.

And in the morning, guests began to gather at the senator’s place. Servants almost continuously carried various dishes into the triclinium and carried away empty dishes. Music was playing and dancers were dancing.

Day after day passed, but each day was similar to the other: guests, music, dancing, feasts until midnight...

Ilya only left the room for meals - there was no need to be an eyesore for the master.

But it didn't work out. Two weeks later, when the flow of guests and visitors had dried up, a maid found Ilya:

- Go immediately, the master is waiting for you.

Ilya walked with his heart beating, worried - what awaits him? Excommunication from home, whipping? During his work, he managed to accumulate three sestertius and two dupondium - not enough if you get to Rome. Why exactly to Rome, he did not know, but something pulled him there.

The senator was reclining on a wedge, his head on the armrest. He wore one sleeveless tunic, and on his head was a laurel wreath as a symbol of belonging to power. Ilya was perplexed - why do you need a wreath at home? Everyone already knows that the owner is a senator. What, you wanted to stroke your vanity?

Entering the triclinium, Ilya greeted the senator by his full name - the Romans had both the father’s name and clan in their names. The senator's personal name was Servilius.

- Ave, Marcus Brutus Servilius Gracchus!

The senator smiled - he clearly liked the greeting.

- So that’s what you are, Elijah! “He pronounced Ilya’s name in the Roman manner.

The senator stood up from the couch and slowly walked around Ilya, examining and assessing him. Then he laughed, showing shrill feminine notes in his laughter. And the senator smelled like a woman - powder and incense.

– Dea always knew how to choose stallions for herself! By the way, she praised you!

Ilya was annoyed to himself: it was not the servant who informed the senator about his relationship with Dea, but the hostess herself boasted to her husband... You can say - from the original source, now he won’t get away with it.

Ilya didn’t like Senator, he looks a lot like a gay guy. But he is the owner, Ilya’s salary is paid from his purse, so it’s better for him to keep his opinion to himself.

- Lie down. “The senator pointed to the couch with a broad gesture.

A thought flashed through Ilya’s head: does he want to poison him? The senator clearly had no intention of executing him or cursing him with the last words. But no matter how it turns out, it will lay down softly, but you will have to sleep hard.

The servants standing at the side of the couches poured wine into glasses.

“I won’t lie, I liked you,” said the senator. “I want to take you with me to Rome.” And strike me with lightning, Jupiter, if all the senators are not jealous.

- Sorry, senator, but I am not a slave, I am a free man.

“I know,” Servilius waved him off. – How much does Ajax pay you?

- One sestertius and two dupondius.

The senator laughed and laughed for a long time, until he cried.

“I will pay you a golden aureus, dress you appropriately, and you will live in one of the best houses in Rome.”

The senator raised his head proudly:

– Would anyone refuse such an offer?

- Sorry, senator. What will my responsibilities be?

Free cheese can only be found in a mousetrap. Offering such money, what will the senator demand from him? If you sleep with him, then never!

– It’s not what you thought – I see it in your eyes. You are tall, built like Apollo - you will accompany me. You will walk ahead of my procession, dispersing the mob.

“It would be better to be a bodyguard,” Ilya sighed.

-Are you a warrior? – the senator was surprised. “You’re not a prisoner, you weren’t captured in battle.”

- Right. Do you doubt it? Check it out.

The senator called the servant:

- Call me Julia. While you and I will have a drink...

Since the senator was poured from the same jug as Ilya, he drank without fear.

A few minutes later, following the servant, a man appeared, whom Ilya had not seen in the villa before. Although without weapons or protection, he looked like a warrior. Medium height, wiry, shaved face and short hair, hard look of brown eyes.

- Julius, check the man. He claims to be a warrior. But don't hurt me, I like him.

Julius nodded and turned to Ilya.

– Fist fighting or wooden swords?

- Both.

-Where will we fight?

The senator answered for Ilya:

- Here! Isn't there enough space here? And then - I want to see everything.

The servants wrapped both their hands with a long cloth tape, and it turned out to be something like boxing gloves - so as not to injure the opponent.

Ilya asked:

– Are you allowed to use legs?

– No, the rules are like in Greek wrestling.

Badly. Ilya has an advantage in arm length and weight, but he is unfamiliar with the opponent and wanted to fight at full strength. The leg muscles are always stronger than the biceps and triceps in the arms. But he does not set the rules of the game.

The fighters moved away from the table, the servants cautiously moved towards the exit - what if, in the heat of battle, they too would get it?

Julius immediately began to attack. He delivered a series of quick blows, but none of them reached Ilya’s head or torso - he took the blows on his left hand and waited. The sparring cannot be prolonged; the senator may get bored. Seizing the moment, Ilya delivered a lightning-fast blow to the enemy’s chin and then a second one to the liver. Julius froze for a second, and then collapsed to the floor.

The servants rushed to him and sprayed him with water, but the fighter remained unconscious. Knockout! The four of them carried away the fighter.

The senator shook his head.

“I didn’t notice how you hit.” But I would like to see a sword fight.

- Julius is not able to...

The senator ordered the servant:

– Leo come to me, quickly!

While they were following him, Ilya unwound the fabric strips on his hands, helping himself with his teeth.

Leo, translated from Latin as Leo, entered and indeed looked impressive. He was taller than Ilya by a head, he was broad in the shoulders, his muscles were pumped up.

“Leo, check the sword man.”

– Wooden or iron?

“I just didn’t have enough blood here!” – The senator winced in disgust.

Leo went out and returned with wooden swords - the kind used by legionnaires and gladiators in training battles.

In anticipation of the spectacle, the senator sat down on the couch.

- Oh, it’s a pity - there are no guests! Anything is better than watching dancers, I’m already tired of them.

Both opponents looked at each other. Leo made a brutal face, wanting to intimidate his opponent even before the start of the battle. Well, well, come on, Ilya has never seen such terrible hari.

Leo was cautious - the removal of Julius' unconscious body alerted him. He made several lunges, but his stick was invariably repelled by Ilya’s sword with a thud.

But Leo was an experienced fighter. He either tried to imitate injections, or, probing Ilya’s defense, dealt chopping blows.

As much as possible, Ilya pretended to look indifferent. This deceived and provoked the enemy. With a scream, he rushed forward, using his stick to beat his wings like a windmill in a strong wind.

Ilya stood in one place, taking blows with his stick and deflecting only with his body, and when Leo began to lose steam, he himself went on the offensive. He hit Leo painfully on the wrist and immediately delivered a glancing blow along the forearm, to the liver. The blow was very painful, and Leo's face involuntarily grimaced in pain. And Ilya continued to strike - lightly, with the end of the sword, simulating injections - in the chest and left shoulder.

He turned around - Dea was standing in the doorway. She clearly liked the spectacle, her eyes sparkled and there was a blush on her cheeks.

The senator raised his hand to signify the end of the fight:

– Leo, how did he look to you?

“I’ve never stood in hoplite ranks, but I fight great.”

- Free.

Leo took the stick from Ilya's hands, winked and left.

- Darling, why are you here? – the senator turned to Dea. - We're having a man's conversation.

- You've been gone for so long, and you're back in business... And I want your attention, fatty.

Dea walked up to the senator, kissed him on the cheek and sat down on his lap.

The senator took a sip of wine.

“I don’t even know what to do with you,” he stared at Ilya with an attentive gaze. “You really are a skilled warrior, you successfully resisted my people - and they are not the last fighters.” Strong, handsome, and speak fluent Latin... Too many virtues for one person.

Dea jumped up:

-What are you up to? He is mine!

- Dea, I need this husband. There is no shame in going to the Senate with him - even to an appointment with the consul. If he is as smart as he is strong, he has no place in the villa carrying your palanquin. Sooner or later, your sworn friends will buy it from you as soon as they see it.

“Ajax gave him a salary, and he doesn’t need anything.”

- Expensive! You don’t understand... He is not a Roman, he has neither relatives nor friends in the city. It is so? – The senator turned to Ilya.

“You’re absolutely right, senator, I don’t have anyone here.”

Ilya did not know then that there were attempts on senators, and often successful ones - even on emperors. Moreover, they were committed by bribed bodyguards or servants. Therefore, the selection of barbers, who worked with a sharp straight razor at the owner’s throat, as well as armed bodyguards, was approached with the utmost care.

But Dea didn't care about that. The couple began to argue, and at some point the senator waved his hand at Ilya - go away, don’t listen to the showdown.

Ilya came out and went to his room - he had been sleeping in a small but separate room for a month. I lay down to rest and fell asleep, apparently because of my excitement. But there was no need to worry, Roman morals were free, spouses had lovers and mistresses, and openly. And that is to say, pagans.

Late at night he woke up from the touch of a woman's hands.

- It's me, Dea. My ruler is sleeping. I failed to defend you, you are leaving with him.

“I’m sorry,” Ilya lied.

- Is it true? I knew it. Then let's not waste time...

Dea left him in the morning, leaving a gold bracelet with emeralds as a farewell before parting. When Ilya saw him in the light of day, he gasped: he’s worth a lot of money! What does his meager salary compare to?

On the third day Leo came into his room:

“Get ready, boy, the senator won’t be waiting for you.” You can go to the pier with your things.

- What things do I have?

Of all things, a spare tunic and a loincloth. All the jewelry given to Dea was on him - Ilya was careful not to leave them in the room. Why seduce servants? They can steal, such incidents sometimes happened in the house.

Having rolled everything up into a bundle, he went to say goodbye to Phidias - he was working on the chariot. We hugged.

Ilya ran to teacher Hector and said goodbye to him. We should also go see the lady; after all, they communicated very closely, and she gave him gifts. By and large, she is a good woman, but she was unlucky with her husband.

But here he refrained and did not go. He will appear at the house, and Servilius will be there.

Ilya wandered towards the port. On the pier, Julius was already sitting on a barrel and dangling his legs. After that battle they did not see each other, and Ilya feared that Julius harbored a grudge against him.

Seeing Ilya, Julius jumped off the barrel and approached:

- Ave, Elijah.

- Ave, Julius. Are you offended by me?

“You turned out to be stronger than I expected, so why be offended?”

– Great, then we’ll get along in the senator’s house.

- Let's go to the ship.

The ship turned out to be a birema, a vessel with two rows of oars. There is a ram ahead, like a warship. Rome used such ships as messengers or patrol ships. They fought more often on triremes, which could accommodate a large number of soldiers and a couple of ballistas with a supply of pots with Greek fire.

The captain looked at both Ilya and Yuli with indifference. He stood at the ramp where they stopped.

Soon the sound of chained wheels was heard on the cobblestone street, and a chariot appeared, with servants running behind it. The senator was entitled to a retinue, but the servants of the chariot were not according to rank.

Servilius stepped off the chariot importantly and nodded to the captain, who broke into a smile. Looks like the senator in Rome is actually an important person.

Servilius was the first to board the ladder, followed by the captain. The senator was accommodated in the only cabin at the stern. His servants, including Ilya, are below deck, at the bow of the ship.

As soon as everyone was settled, the bireme immediately moved away from the shore and turned its nose to the north. The rowers began to row to the rhythmic beats of the drum.

Ilya was interested. The bireme's speed on the calm sea was decent, about seven to eight knots. And, as Ilya noted, the rowers on the ship were hired workers, not slaves, since slaves were usually chained to benches, and there was an overseer with a whip on the ship.

The measured splash of oars, the hiss of water cut by a ram, the slight rocking of the ship, the smell of the sea - such familiar sensations!

The senator's servants were located in a narrow room below deck, at the bow of the ship - it was intended for landing in the event of hostilities. Rome was almost constantly at war with someone - with pirates of the Mediterranean, Carthage, with barbarians on all borders.

We sailed in sight of the coast several miles away. The voyage turned out to be calm: the weather was calm and there was no storm.

Having reached the mouth of the Tiber, the river on which Rome stood, the bireme entered it. She did not have to climb upstream for long; the capital of the empire was not far from the Tyrrhenian Sea. Boats and small vessels scurried along the dirty river.

Birema moored at the pier. But the senator sat on the stern, not thinking of going ashore. But two servants immediately ran down the stairs and disappeared into the alley.

Soon a gig pulled by a mule arrived. Then the senator slowly stepped off the ship and, supported on both sides by the elbows of servants, sat down on a soft seat. The cart started moving, the servants followed on foot.

Ilya looked at the Eternal City with interest, but it did not appear to him. The first floors of the buildings are blank, without windows, the houses are cramped, close to each other. But, interestingly, there are wooden knockers hanging on the doors - a prototype of modern electric bells. There are a lot of people on the streets, but for the most part they are ordinary people. There were also standing women with whitened faces.

– Why are you staring? – Julius nudged him with his elbow. – Haven’t you seen prostitutes? Only two aces.

Yes, Ilya was once again convinced that morals in Rome were free.

But the further the procession moved from the river, the wider the streets were and the larger and more luxurious the houses. But the wealth in them was only guessed. The house itself was located inside, along the perimeter it was built up with buildings for servants and outbuildings, forming a cozy and enclosed courtyard. The only thing is that at the entrance there were porticoes with columns, and below on the marble there was a mosaic of the word “salve” - welcome.

The senator's carriage drove through the gates of such a house, the servants entered, and the gatekeeper locked the gates.

Julius, as an old-timer, showed Ilya his trestle bed in the room:

- We will live together.

Ilya was the only newcomer who arrived with the senator in Rome.

Having dropped their things, they went to lunch. On the ship, the servants were fed the same thing - bean soup and boiled fish with breadcrumbs. However, a warship is not a mobile tavern.

They were fed barley porridge with meat and hot flatbreads, then served two types of cheese with red wine, and finally a delicacy - olives in wine sauce. The senator was generous on the occasion of his safe arrival!

After lunch - siesta, midday rest. But Ilya slept well on the ship, so Yulia simply thought while snoring.

Firstly, the fight, albeit a training one, with Julius and Leo showed that he had not lost his fighting skills. Therefore, Makosh could not or forgot to deprive him of his military skills. Not bad already! And secondly, he still made it to Rome. But he just can’t understand why he needs it? What attracted him here so much, pushed him, called him? He had no acquaintances or relatives here and could not have had any business interests; he was neither a merchant nor an industrialist. But there was something, still incomprehensible, not really conscious, but drawing him to this city.

After Julius woke up, he showed Ilya around the house, introducing him to the gatekeeper and many servants. At first, Ilya could not remember all the names, but the main thing was that he be remembered, otherwise the same gatekeeper would simply not let him into the yard.

The next day, together with Julius, they picked up ammunition, weapons and clothes for Ilya.

With the weapon, everything was decided simply - just a knife in a sheath. Only legionnaires could walk around the city with a sword in a sheath; their accessory was the crossed belts of a sword belt. Ordinary velites or hastati carried swords on the right side, since they carried a shield in their left hand. Military leaders, starting with the centurion, wore the sword on the left. In addition, the centurions had a silvered scaly shell, and the crest on the helmet ran transversely.

The clothes were sorted out quickly, since their sizes were such that they fit anyone. We selected two tunics - with and without sleeves. Each has its own belt. And also alfalfa - a piece of dense fabric, a kind of cape for the cold season. And also penulu - clothing similar to a coat with a hood made of thick fabric. For windy weather, there was a caracalla - a tunic-like robe with a hood, now worn by Catholic monks.

In conclusion, Yuliy handed Ilya a personal kvach for the toilet. What can you do, the Romans didn’t have toilet paper...

Ilya wanted to get out into the city, but Julius stopped him, saying:

- Do not rush. Tomorrow the senator will go to his good friend, Senator Antonius, in the baths. As a rule, he returns in the morning. We will have a free day, and then we will go to the city together. If you don't know Rome, you can easily get lost.

Ilya became interested. The senator spent two weeks in Sicily, half a day in Rome in the baths with a friend... How does he earn money? And he had no doubt that the senator was rich. Ilya asked Julius about this.

“Didn’t Dea tell you?” He supplies grain to the army - there is nothing more profitable.

– Does he buy large quantities somewhere?

- We know where - in Egypt, there is a harvest twice a year. He has his own fields, slaves, and overseers there.

- Still would! And he not only supplies grain...

The next day, Julius and Ilya went to the city.

By the standards of that time, Rome was huge. But the friends were not interested in the outskirts; they headed to the center.

Rome stood on the hills, and from their height the city was clearly visible.

They walked past three- and four-story houses. When Ilya asked who lived there, Julius waved his hand dismissively:

- These are rented houses, insulas. And the plebs, like you and me, live in them. Craftsmen, small traders...

After half an hour of leisurely walking, Julius said:

To the left was a wide street, on which stood a tall column, about thirty meters long.

They approached a tall, pompous building with a colonnade.

- Pantheon! Temple of all gods! Let's go inside.

The building was tall, with a round dome, in the center of which there was a large hole, about five meters in diameter, through which sunlight poured. Marble statues of gods were located near the walls. Huge, skillfully made, they were supposed to inspire parishioners with respect and awe of their power.

-Who do you worship, Ilya?

- No one. I'm an unbeliever.

Julius looked at him with round eyes in surprise:

- Be quiet, they might hear us!

When they left the Pantheon, Julius asked:

- Aren't you a Christian?

– Do you see the cross on my neck? This is a symbol of faith in Jesus.

- Uh-uh, what can their crucified God do to whom they don’t make donations? Don’t you have gods, priests, temples in your homeland?

- Eat. I even helped the goddess Mokosh.

“I hope she responded with gratitude?”

- Alas! She didn't help me save my lover.

– Is this why you left your country?

- You can say so. I lost faith in the gods.

- I understood you. I already thought that you were a Christian.

– Is it a crime to believe in Christ?

- I'll tell you at home.

Along the Appian Way they reached the Campus Martius, where the legionnaires practiced their combat skills. Along the perimeter there were a bunch of food vendors; you could buy any kind of food. However, Julius reasoned: why spend money when they are fed for free in the senator’s house?

He led Ilya back along a short route.

In one of the narrow alleys they saw a strange procession - two city guards were leading four men tied together.

-Are they criminals? – Ilya asked.

- Worse - they are Christians.

Yuli's answer surprised Ilya:

– Why “worse”?

– The Jews and the Greeks brought this heresy to the empire. Evil brethren, they refuse to worship the emperor and see only their Christ above everyone else.

– As far as I know, they are not bloodthirsty. The Romans stage gladiator fights for the amusement of the public.

– The people demand bread and circuses! What's the harm in the fact that gladiators, usually slaves and prisoners of war, fight in the arena? Much more people die from hunger during droughts or wars.

Ilya understood: Julius is a true Roman and a pagan, and there is no point in arguing with him about faith. After the battles in Rus' between pagans and Christians, Ilya was disgusted by the very idea of killing his own kind because of a different faith.

As Julius had predicted and the gatekeeper joyfully reported, the senator had not yet returned.

For lunch there was onion soup with smoked meat, fried fish, hazelnuts in honey, cheese cakes and white Thracian wine.

They ate slowly and enjoyed their food. At the end of dinner, the servants brought grapes and peaches. Ilya was full of food.

The senator was not having fun - he was discussing the situation in the empire in the library at the baths.

During the reign of Alexander Severus, Christians were treated with indifference and without aggression. Maximin, who came to power and was proclaimed by the army, decided to return the empire to the ancient gods. Both Roman Christian bishops - Hippolytus and Pontian - were imprisoned in the city prison in 238. In the same year Maximin died.

After Maximin, Philip the Arab became emperor. It was rumored about him that he secretly professed Christianity.

In Alexandria, during a pagan holiday, a Christian pogrom took place. Four Christians died, but Philip's troops pacified the rioters. However, Philip soon died.

Now a group of senators was deciding who to nominate as emperor. Senators had everything in power, knew the secret levers of power, had wealth and economic power.

The senators argued for a long time and almost came to blows, but they did not have military force behind them.

The military decided otherwise. Rome was threatened by the Goths, and the military decided that in the face of danger threatening from outside, one of them should become emperor. There was no coup, the emperor's seat was empty, and the military leaders proclaimed Gaius the Messiah Trajan Decius emperor. He was born in Pannonia, a Roman province, in 201. He was fully supported and promoted by his relative, the procurator of the province of Dacia, Quintus Decius Vindex, who later rose to the rank of prefect of Rome. In gratitude for their services, the tenth legion was given the title Decii.

Having come to power, Gaius Trajan Decius in the same year immediately restored the Colosseum, which was badly damaged during the fire.

In the minds of the Romans, God's peace occupied an important place. The Romans worship the gods, and they protect and protect the world. Christians refused to worship pagan gods and make sacrifices to them. In addition to the displeasure and irritation of the new emperor, the Christians aroused the contempt of the inhabitants.

Decius, as a military man, decided to eradicate the infection with fire and sword. Christians began to be persecuted: the clergy were subjected to imprisonment, scourging, confiscation of property and even execution. In January 250, Decius issued a Decree according to which every inhabitant of the empire must publicly, in the presence of the authorities, make a sacrifice and taste the sacrificial meat. Those who made a sacrifice received “mebelus” - papyrus, confirming the sacrifice and the worship of pagan gods. Those who refused were persecuted.

But all this will happen only in six months. And now the senator has returned home in a gloomy mood. Confidants from the army leadership informed him that the army was ready to forcefully install an emperor from among its own - Decius. Servilius did not like him: he was cruel, cunning, always and everywhere he went ahead - a real army warrior. But politics is a delicate matter, not all issues can and should be resolved by force. And besides, Decius had a sin - he dragged his relatives with him everywhere and put them in the grain places. These positions are not high-profile, not ceremonial, but they bring in hefty profits.

Now there was cause for concern. A new broom sweeps in a new way, and the new emperor and his relatives could easily push Servilius, like other patricians, away from the trough. He will transfer orders for the army, the largest customer and consumer in the empire, to another - and then what? Quietly, face to face, the senators even discussed whether it was worth bribing Decius’s cook or servants to add poison to his wine? They argued for a long time, but did not come to a clear conclusion.

The army acted quickly, and already in the morning the Senate, as well as the residents of the Eternal City, heard about the new emperor.

The senator locked himself in his room and wrung his hands in despair. They missed it, they should have acted, not spoken.

Ilya, like Julius, Leo and other ordinary people, took the news indifferently. The emperor must be like the constant sunrise in the morning. The emperor sits high, the distance to the plebs is great, it’s impossible to shout enough. And what does it matter to Julius or Ilya that the emperor is new? There was Philip - he became Decius, nothing has changed. We must also work, take care of pressing matters.

High-ranking guests began to visit the senator. They arrived on carts, wrapped in caracalla and covering their faces with a hood. Julius recognized one of the visitors:

- Centurion from the Praetorians. “I saw him before when I accompanied Servilius to the Forum,” he whispered to Ilya.

The Praetorians guarded the imperial palace, and Ilya immediately drew conclusions. Are the senators trying to plot something? But what does it matter to him? In any mess, only the common people get worse. The rich or those in power get out of trouble without losses, and sometimes even adding to their fortune. As they say, lords fight, but slaves' forelocks crack.

But I have more free time. The senator did not leave the house, and Ilya began to often go into the city. Even though he was no longer a warrior, his old habits remained. He wanted to know where important institutions were located - the imperial palace, the court, food warehouses, legions.

It turned out to be easiest with the warriors; their camps were located on three main roads just outside the city - Via Flaminia, Via Appia, Via Ostibisis. And also - he was interested in seeing ancient Rome. In his time, tourists bought tickets to see the ruins of an ancient city - the same Colosseum. And he was lucky enough to see everything in its original form - so why neglect this opportunity? There was even pride in his soul - well, which of his contemporaries could boast that they had even glimpsed the Pantheon or basilicas?

But it’s not for nothing that they say that curiosity killed the cat. And Ilya - and his sense of justice, the desire to protect the weak.

The day was sunny, Ilya slowly walked along the street. At that moment, an unusual procession overtook him: several city guards were driving tied people in front of them. They didn’t look like criminals, they looked too decent, and the group was diverse in composition - both men and women, both young and old.

Ilya joined the guard at the end of the procession - he looked at him lazily and indifferently.

- Let me ask, servant, what is the fault of these people?

– These are the most vile criminals! They are Christians!

The guard said these words like he spat – with disdain.

The last woman in a gray table, walking last, stumbled, but the guard roughly grabbed her by the elbow and pushed her towards her bound brothers.

Ilya managed to notice that this was not a middle-aged woman, but a young girl. And in some way she reminded him of his Marya - the same oval face, the outline of the nose, cheekbones. Only dark hair and brown, tear-stained eyes.

– How much do you want to let her go? - Ilya asked the guard, pointing to the girl - he already knew that the guards did not disdain offerings. As if by chance, he raised his hand, showing off the ring and ring on his fingers.

The guard's eyes flashed greedily, he licked his lips.

“I can’t,” he answered with obvious reluctance, “twenty people were accepted, the same number must be submitted.” Otherwise they will flog you.

Ilya didn’t even think for a second:

- You let her go, and I’ll be in her place...

- And will you give me the ring? – the guard didn’t believe it.

- Hmm, that won’t work. You don't have a cross.

- Uno momento!

Ilya caught up with the girl:

- Take off the cross and leave, I’ll go instead of you.

The girl opened her eyes wide in surprise. But then she nodded and with her tied hands pulled the chain over her head.

Ilya bent down, and the girl put her chain with a copper cross around his neck. Both stopped - the guard was already very close.

- Untie her hands. And here is the ring for you, as I promised.

The guard untied the rope holding the girl's hands.

“Leave quickly,” he told her.

With shaking hands, the guard pulled the ring off Ilya’s finger and put it on his thumb—on others it would have simply dangled.

- Give me your hands, I have to tie them for you.

Quickly, in a hurry, the guard wrapped a rope around Ilya’s wrists.

The girl dived into the alley.

- Catch up!

Ilya walked widely; the guard trotted behind, glancing at the ring from time to time. Apparently, he considered Ilya a Christian sympathizer or a moron.

Ilya believed that Christians would be given whipping as a punishment. He, Ilya, will survive, not a fragile girl who will simply be disfigured by the scourge. And then he will run away, choosing the right moment for this.

One of the male captives turned around and looked for the captive, but saw Ilya. I even shook my head - wasn’t it a dream?

But at that moment the guard shouted:

- Go, don't look back!

They walked through the Virinal area. Ilya had already found his way around the city a little and was trying to determine where they were being taken? To court? So he is to the left, between the Palantines and the Forum.

Some passers-by on the streets looked sympathetic at the sight of the procession, others spat and cursed. Insults and threats were heard more often. The prisoners were already tired, began to stumble, and one of the guards, clearly playing to the audience, shouted:

- You'll rest soon, move your legs!

The audience laughed mockingly.

Ilya was wondering what to do - kick the guard and run away? There are too many hostile people around. They won’t let you leave, they will cling and trip you up.

The Colosseum, translated from Latin as colossal, already appeared ahead. And this in fact was so - a huge oval building made of stone blocks with four floors and an oval arena. The floors are high, all together - like a modern twelve-story building.

Ilya had a bad feeling. Did he do the right thing by voluntarily becoming a prisoner?

The prisoners were taken into the interior and placed in a cell. It was huge and could hold three or four times as much. Instead of the fourth wall there was an iron grille, and light penetrated through it. The other three walls were blank.

The ropes were removed from the prisoners, and the people sat down in all directions. They seemed to be strangers to each other, but they all had one thing in common - they all had crosses. Some have wooden ones, some have silver or copper. One thing was clear to Ilya - people were seized precisely on this basis.

The man walking in front of him approached Ilya and sat down next to him.

-Where is Diana?

- I don’t know this one.

“You’re lying, you’re wearing her cross and her chain.”

-Who are you to ask me?

- I am Presbyter Anthony.

As far as Ilya remembered, a presbyter is some kind of member of the clergy, the Christian clergy.

- I'm Ilya.

“I didn’t see you among the parishioners.” Are you right to wear a cross?

Ilya was baptized as a child and wore a cross. But then he took it off, and it remained lying at home - there, in the distant future...

“I was baptized,” Ilya crossed himself to confirm his words.

Apparently, Anthony was afraid that Ilya was a “decoy”? Listen to what the prisoners are saying and then report it to the court.

At that time there were about three thousand Christians in Rome. Of the clergy there are 46 presbyters, 7 deacons, 7 subdeacons and 52 members of the lower clergy - gatekeepers and bookkeepers. Almost all Christians knew each other by sight, as they met at services. Therefore, Anthony had suspicions about Ilya.

-Who of the clergy do you know? – Anthony did not let up.

“No one,” Ilya admitted honestly. “I recently arrived from Sicily and serve Senator Servilius.

– Then explain to me, where did Diana go?

– As far as I understand, this is a young girl in a gray table?

- Yes, I noticed how you talked to her.

“I bought her from the guard for a ring, and I took her place.”

Anthony looked intently into Ilya’s eyes.

– I don’t understand, are you so generous or crazy? Christ commanded to love your neighbors, but not everyone is firm in their statements. Do you know what kind of room this is? – Anthony looked around the camera.

- Prison cell.

- Right. But the city prison is not here, this is the Colosseum.

However, Ilya could not understand what the presbyter wanted to say by this. Moreover, he noticed that others began to listen to their conversation. Apparently, Ilya did not know some subtleties, and Anthony decided to explain:

– Gladiator fights are held in the Colosseum arena.

- Heard.

- Do not interrupt. And Christians are put to death here for the amusement of the public.

- How?! - Ilya burst out.

“As the emperor deigns,” the presbyter smiled bitterly. “Sometimes hungry lions are released on people, and sometimes city guards are released.” They have weapons in their hands, and they kill unarmed Christians - women, children, old people...

A chill ran down Ilya's spine. It looks like there will be no trial or whipping. Having taken someone else's cross, he chose a difficult fate for himself - a painful death for the amusement of the Romans.

“Then why don’t you unite and start a riot?” Or do you live by the commandments: if you hit one cheek, turn the other?

“You are ardent in your judgments and do not know Rome.” There are too few of us, and around the city there are three camps full of legionnaires. They will simply kill us.

“But you shouldn’t sit idly by either.”

- Decius hates Christians more than his eternal opponents - ready. Have you ever heard of Spartak?

- Certainly. This is a gladiator who rebelled, he gathered an entire army of his own kind. The foundations of Rome were then greatly shaken.

-You know the history of Rome well. But everyone can talk their tongues, I’ll see how you behave in the arena tomorrow.

– Do I have a choice?

- You did not know? Tomorrow Decius himself will be in the imperial box. To begin with, as other emperors did before him, he will offer us his mercy and forgiveness if we renounce Joshua and kneel before him, recognizing his supremacy.

- But you can lie and leave...

“Before that, we must tear off our crosses, begin to trample them under our feet and blaspheme Christ. This is beyond our understanding. Having betrayed you once, who will believe you?

Ilya thought the same.

The prisoners were not fed, not even given water. Why, if they will die tomorrow anyway?

Anthony moved away from Ilya and began to talk with others, encouraging them - everyone’s soul was heavy. Tomorrow they will have to die, and not in battle with the enemy, not an honorable death, but for the amusement of the public, torn apart by a lion. The mood of the captives is decadent and sad.

- Shut up, or I'll beat you with a stick!

It got dark. The corridor was dimly lit by torches. The roaring of a lion could be heard from afar. The beast was further down the corridor, in an iron cage.

Most Christians did not sleep on their last night. Some prayed, turning their faces to the east, others talked quietly.

Ilya didn’t know any of them, and there was no desire or point in getting to know each other. Did Makosh really take revenge, and it was at her request that, without knowing it, he ended up in Rome, in the Colosseum? Not finding an answer, he fell asleep, deciding to himself that the morning is wiser than the evening, and first he needed to get some sleep and gain strength.

Nothing happened until noon the next day. Then the tramp of many feet and voices were heard - people began to arrive at the Colosseum. The Romans were thirsty for spectacle, and the cruel fun and blood in the arena did not bother them at all. Entire families walked, carrying baskets of food with them in case the performance lasted longer than usual.

According to Ilya's estimates, about an hour had passed when the emperor arrived. The prisoners did not see this moment, but they heard it. First there was a fanfare, then the people screamed joyfully.

The joyful frenzy continued for a quarter of an hour.

In the corridor, behind the bars, city guards appeared. They looked like legionnaires, but the helmet was without a crest, simple, and the legionnaires themselves were without sword belts and shields. Otherwise, the same ferocious faces, swords in sheaths.

The prisoners began to hug each other, several women could not restrain themselves and began to cry.

- Come out! – one of the guards shouted. – Line up one by one – and to the right. You have the great honor of seeing the Emperor himself. And if anyone decides to save his insignificant life, to beg forgiveness from his equal to the gods, tear off your crosses and kneel down! If the Emperor is merciful, he will spare your life.

- As for me, I would interrupt you right here...

The prisoners walked along a long corridor under the stands. You could hear the spectators upstairs impatiently stamping their feet on the stone stands.

Here's the way out. The bright light hurt his eyes, and for a second Ilya closed his eyes.

The noise was simply deafening. The Colosseum was huge, holding up to 50 thousand spectators, and now the stands were full.

The large arena was deserted. The prisoners were taken exactly to the center.

The roar of the stands died down. In the imperial box, decorated with a noble laurel and a personal standard, sat Decius in a snow-white toga, and next to him were several guests.

The Emperor stood up and the Colosseum erupted with cheers.

Decius enjoyed the greetings of the audience, amused his vanity, and then threw both hands up. The noise stopped.

– Greetings, free citizens of Rome!

And again greetings from the townspeople.

The Emperor nodded favorably and the noise ceased.

– Before you in the arena are traitors to the faith of our ancestors. We have the right to judge them according to the laws of the empire.

- Yes! - the stands screamed.

– You decide how serious their guilt is, whether they deserve to live or should die?

The people in the stands screamed again, and Ilya saw them stick out their fists with their thumbs sticking out. Ilya had never been to stadiums before, but he had watched Hollywood films. He sincerely believed that if the thumb points up, it is a sign to save a person’s life; if it points down, he deserves death.

Everything in life turned out to be wrong. Even if the finger was pointed downwards, even if it was upwards, it was all the same – death.

The fist symbolized the sword. And if the sword should remain in the sheath, all the fingers will be closed together in a fist - this symbolized a request for the preservation of life. If the thumb was protruded to the side, remove the sword from its sheath, the person deserves death.

Now everyone in the stands kept their thumb away from their fist - they were out for blood.

The Emperor looked around the stadium:

– With the power granted to me by the gods, I have the right to show mercy – Rome has always been distinguished by its generosity.

At these words, Ilya almost choked.

Decius continued in complete silence:

– I ask you, fans of a foreign and foreign faith in a crucified and dead God – do you persist in your faith? Or do you want to save your life? If you find any, come closer, take off your pectoral cross as a symbol of Christianity, throw it on the ground and trample it under your feet! And then bow on your knees to the emperor and the people! I promise to save the lives of apostates of the faith!

The guy standing next to Ilya said:

“We know his grace will send him to Africa to the quarries.” In six months, you’ll still die from backbreaking work and the overseer’s whip...

Silence hung over the stadium. None of the Christians came forward or tore off the pectoral cross - everyone was ready to accept death.

The Emperor nodded. He did not expect any other answer, otherwise the whole show would have been ruined, and the plebs would have been disappointed. Decius would not have wanted such an outcome. It has long been known that the people are hungry for bread and circuses, and then they will not rebel, but will begin to love their emperor.

And Decius had just come to power. In the army he was respected for his toughness and determination, but this was not enough for him. Now he is at the pinnacle of power and longed for popular veneration and adoration. He wanted to be remembered in the same way as Alexander Severus or Maximin; he needed fame at any cost.

The Emperor waved his hand and sat down.

Ilya looked around. Your hands are not tied, but there is nowhere to run; there are armed guards at all entrances. And the plebs won’t let you leave.

In the center of the stands, below, under the emperor's box, there is a raised iron grille. Four guards on a cart rolled a cage with a lion into the arena. The beast rushed around the cage and exploded.

The guards left and were replaced by two others with spears. The spears were short, two meters long - in Rus' they were used as throwing spears.

One of the guards pushed the latch with his spear, the second stood to the side, sticking his spear forward.

The iron cage door swung open and the lion jumped out.

The guards with spears backed away, entered the passage under the stands, and the iron bars lowered. Once safe, the guards fell to the bars. A very convenient place: all the action will be clearly visible, and personal safety is guaranteed.

The lion moved his head, looked around and rushed towards the people with huge leaps.

The men stood shoulder to shoulder, but the women couldn’t stand it and ran.

The instinct of a predator is to catch up with the prey, and it worked. The lion changed the direction of its run and jumped onto the back of one of the women. The short dying cry of a man and the growl of an animal - low, hoarse, guttural - merged into one sound.

The woman died quickly, without suffering. The lion began to torment his victim, and the audience in the stands, watching him tear pieces of flesh from the woman’s body, screamed joyfully. The entire face of the beast was smeared in blood.

The bars rose again, the guards rolled out a cart and released another lion into the arena. Letting out a powerful roar, he rushed towards the people in large leaps. Now he is already nearby.

Ilya decided to try the technique that he used against the dog when he was being pursued by the governor’s men. He took a step forward, extended his hand and turned it palm down. And looked into the eyes of the beast. In fact, he didn’t really believe that he would succeed.

But the lion slowed down, bowed his head and looked at Ilya from under his brows. The beast's eyes were angry, and it was difficult to bear his gaze. Ilya didn’t look away. However, the lion changed from running to walking, then lay down and roared briefly.

The crowd of spectators screamed indignantly. The plebs began to stomp their feet, whistle, and beat wooden mallets - the noise was unimaginable.

The lion moved its ears, but made no attempts to rise from the ground and attack.

Outraged by this behavior of the beast, trying to hit him and anger him, the spectators began to throw apples and pears into the arena.

Then two guards with spears ran out of the iron gates, carefully approached the lion from behind and began to stab him with their points.

The beast did not like such indelicate treatment. But he did not run to the Christians, but rushed at the offenders. With one blow of his powerful paw, the lion broke the shaft of the spear, throwing one guard aside and jumping on another. He managed to substitute the spear, but hesitated for a moment, and the steel tip scratched the skin of the animal.

A slight wound only angered the beast. He grabbed the guard's face with his claws and pulled, removing the scalp. The guard screamed in terrible pain, and the lion grabbed his throat with its teeth. A couple of seconds - and the bitten head rolled to the side.

The audience's outrage knew no bounds. A dozen guards ran out from behind the bars onto the field - half of them were carrying a long, strong net. Others had spears and sheathed swords in their hands—the spears were not throwing spears, but fighting ones.

They threw a net over the animal, pounced on it, literally swaddled it and dragged it to the passage under the stands. Having removed the first lion, the guards ran to the second.

The lion saw how his brother was caught and rushed to run away, and when the chain of pursuers stretched out, he turned sharply and rushed at the guard closest to him.

The man's death was quick. The lion literally bit off his hand and tore his stomach with its claws.

The guards ran up. They no longer cast a net, but thrust spears into the lion, almost piercing the beast through. And while the lion roared and fought in agony, they cut him down with swords.

The audience did not get the spectacle they wanted to see. The people shouted, whistled, and were indignant. The Emperor stood up and defiantly left the bed. The guests also left with him.

The guards, having killed the lion, began to drive the Christians towards the passage with an iron grate. The action failed.

The prisoners were driven into the same cell, and the people, discussing and condemning the poorly prepared spectacle, dispersed.

The prisoners were shocked. In the morning, everyone thought that this day would be his last, but the group lost only one woman.

The Christians rushed to hug each other, then, as if on command, they knelt facing east and began to read prayers, thanking Christ for salvation.

The captives did not sleep all night, they had not eaten anything for a day, today they were incredibly worried - before their eyes, a lion killed a Christian from among them, so after prayer they went to bed, the trials that had befallen them were very tired.

Ilya took a nap at night and therefore did not go to bed now. He sat with his back against the wall of the cell and thought about what had happened.

The presbyter came up to him and sat down next to him.

- How did you manage?

- What are you talking about?

- Subdue the lion. Or were you a tamer in your country?

- No, Anthony, there are no lions in my country.

There were lions on the Italian Peninsula in those days, and Anthony apparently believed that the rest of the countries were just as warm and had the same animals as in the empire.

In fact, almost the entire civilized world lived around the Mediterranean Sea. On its northern shores are the Roman Empire and Spain, on its southern shores is Carthage, already captured by the Romans.

“Thank you for saving me from a terrible death in the lion’s mouth.” Not otherwise - the Lord enlightened. – Anthony stared at Ilya as if he was seeing him for the first time.

“Maybe,” he said thoughtfully.

“By tomorrow the Romans will come up with a new dirty trick,” said Ilya. “Today the spectacle was not a success, but tomorrow they will kill us.”

- No doubt.

Performances - gladiator fights or fights between predators and people - took place almost every day during the holidays. And they celebrated for a long time, the same Saturnalia lasted for two weeks. And almost every month there is a holiday in honor of some god - the Pantheon is great.

Ilya lay down on the ground, trampled to stone density. Why sit when you can lie down? He managed without food easily, but he was thirsty.

– What do you think, Anthony, what will they do tomorrow?

- Either armed guards will be released on us, or gladiators. Although gladiators are not by law... A slave has no right to kill a citizen, even a prisoner.

Ilya did not know Roman laws, and it was too late to regret it.

Anthony lay down next to him and closed his eyelids.

- Anthony, if the guards are armed, will they give us weapons?

- You're laughing?

– Gladiators fight to the death in the arena, but both sides have weapons.

- Don’t you understand? Christians are in a worse position than gladiators.

– Do worshipers of Jesus do something reprehensible? You can't kill for your faith. Some people like Jupiter, others like Jesus.

– You tell this to Decius when you meet.

- If only in heaven...

“He won’t get there, he has his own gods,” Anthony answered with conviction.

The presbyter quickly fell asleep, while Ilya thought. If tomorrow in the arena not a lion, but armed guards or gladiators are released against them, what should they do? If only there was a knife! And throwing yourself bare-handed at guards armed with swords and having combat training is pure recklessness. But Ilya was not going to let himself be slaughtered like a ram. Fight back and die like a man if there is no other choice. And if fate turned out this way, he was going to finally slam the door loudly. He will take at least one, or better yet, two Romans with him to heaven, even if the triumph of the spectators is overshadowed. They will not see a clear victory over the Christians.

When the presbyter woke up, Ilya turned to him:

“Did any of your people here fight?” I mean, does anyone have any combat experience?

- What are you up to, Ilya?

“If armed guards are sent into the arena against us tomorrow, we will fight.”

- With bare hands? They will kill us anyway...

“Last night you said that we would be eaten by lions today.” But you were wrong, and we are alive. And if tomorrow we are able to fight back, it will make a favorable impression on the audience, and they will show their fists. The Emperor can side with the majority.

- We will be sent to the quarries.

- I do not like your mood. That you have everything sorted out - we will die, we will die... Man is born to live, and only God alone knows how much is measured out to whom.

– What about non-resistance to evil?

Ilya just sighed sadly. And this man is a shepherd? In his personal opinion, any leader at his level should strive to ensure that people who trust him are alive and live better. At the very least, the presbyter must inspire his flock, but for Anthony, despondency is a sin in itself.

“So you don’t want to help me tomorrow?” – Ilya was persistent.

– If you are a Christian, you should know that after earthly death there will come heavenly, eternal life.

“Well, yes, paradise,” muttered Ilya.

There was no point in relying on the presbyter and his people; they were not his helpers. In vain! It turns out that one will have to fight for his life.

Chapter 3. Colosseum

In the evening, a bucket of water was brought to the prisoners, and everyone was able to drink to their heart's content.

The night passed restlessly. Some prayed, others slept restlessly, screaming in their sleep and waking up from nightmares - nevertheless, the death of a woman in the arena made an eerie, indelible impression.

In the morning everyone looked rumpled, with swollen eyes - from insomnia, tears, worries.

Ilya sat in the corner, not talking to anyone and trying to concentrate, gather his courage. A difficult day lay ahead, and it was necessary to gather all one’s will into a fist, to call upon all one’s skill and all one’s courage to help. There was one more thing that bothered me: in Suzdal, he missed a sword blow from a warrior and remained alive. He was not mistaken about this; the ancient goddess Makosh helped. Did this quality remain with him? I would like to snuggle up to the oak tree now, soak up its life-giving power, but there is only stone and iron around.

In the afternoon there was again shuffling and stamping of feet, talking and shouting from above in the stands - people were gathering for the spectacle. What have the jailers prepared for the prisoners this time? It would not be interesting for them to simply kill Christians by cutting off their heads; that is not why the people came to see the execution. The plebs need to see action, something breathtaking, an event to talk about.

After some time, fanfare sounded and loyal cries were heard:

- Ave, Decius! Salute, Emperor!

Yeah, the emperor himself has arrived. Surely the organizers of the spectacle received a beating for yesterday’s incident, and today everything should go off without a misfire.

A guard came and grinned carnivorously, showing rotten teeth:

- They've been waiting for you in the arena!

The prisoners were led along the corridor. The lion's roar was not heard, so they prepared something else.

The appearance of Christians in the arena was met with indignant shouts and stamping of feet.

In a dense group, the prisoners stopped in the middle of the arena.

This time, Decius, who was in the box, no longer asked Christians whether they would like to renounce their faith in order to save their lives. He didn’t play at virtue today, he wanted to show the people toughness. And generosity can be shown at the very end - to the only survivor. In addition, he will still be sent to the quarries or mines, where the unfortunate man will live for a very short time.

Two chariots drove out of the passage into the arena. Each was drawn by a pair of horses, and each had only one driver.

At first Ilya did not understand what the threat was. The charioteer has neither a spear, nor a bow, nor a sword. And only when the chariot began to accelerate, I noticed sparkling strips of steel on the side of the wheels - sharply sharpened blades, a meter long, if not more, were attached to the axles. At full speed of a horse, such blades can easily cut off the legs at a level slightly above the knee.

The prisoners did not yet suspect the mortal danger threatening them and peered at the charioteers to see if they had weapons in their hands?

- Run away! - Ilya shouted.

Everyone heard, but only a few men reacted.

The horses rushed and the blades hit their legs. People who were unlucky fell and screams of pain were heard.

The audience jumped with delight, the emperor nodded his head favorably - the plebs liked this kind of entertainment.

The chariots described a semicircle around the arena - one was on the left and the other on the right side of the arena. Turning, they rushed towards each other.

And again, several prisoners were unlucky. Having darted away from one chariot, they fell under the blades of another.

And again there was a flash of joy in the stands.

- Kill them all, Marcellus! - they shouted from one of the stands. Apparently, this was not the first time the charioteer had ridden into the arena, and they knew him by sight.

The chariots parted again, only to turn again from the far ends of the arena. The blades on the axles were like deadly scythes, only they did not mow down grass, but people.

Ilya dodged the chariots. While there were a lot of people in the arena and the charioteers were directing their chariots towards the crowds, he didn’t even have to run, he stood motionless. And when the chariot was close and it was no longer possible to change the trajectory of its movement, he jumped away. But with each passage of the chariots there were fewer and fewer prisoners, and the stands went wild.

And then the moment came when there were only two prisoners left - Ilya himself and the young guy. Now each of them was hunted by a chariot.

However, this cart was both good and dangerous. It was dangerous when it crashed at full speed into a group of people or a formation of soldiers - in this case it could not maneuver with a small radius. At a slow speed, the chariot was completely harmless.

Sometimes, when the chariot passed dangerously close, Ilya jumped at the last second, letting the blades pass under him.

The show began to drag on. Just two Christians, but for half an hour two chariots have not been able to kill them.

In the stands they began to shout and whistle indignantly, and Ilya decided that something had to be done with the charioteers. Sooner or later, he himself will make a mistake and die. He even had a plan in his head - very risky and daring. At the slightest inaccuracy, he will fall under the blade and die from loss of blood.

Ilya stood in the way of the speeding chariot. With every second the horse was getting closer, and when its muzzle was already half a meter away from him, he struck it on the nose with a strong blow with his fist. The horse reared up, scared away to the side, and Ilya jumped as high as possible - the blade passed under his feet.

And the chariot began to tilt. The charioteer was experienced and immediately tried to counter the roll, shifting his weight to one leg and thereby trying to level the chariot. However, it was already too late; the right blade plowed the ground of the arena, acting like a plow.

The driver flew out of the cart and fell into the arena.

The horse pulled the cart on its side for another ten or three steps and stood up.

Ilya ran to the charioteer. Apparently, the impact of falling at speed was strong, the driver swayed like a drunk and could not straighten up.

With a powerful blow to the jaw, Ilya put him back into the arena, jumped up and with all his weight, transferred to one leg, fell on the charioteer’s neck. He went limp.

And the second chariot was already flying towards Ilya. Now there was only Elijah in the arena and one charioteer in the chariot.

The intensity of passions increased, the audience began to place bets. Ilya had fans who bet money on him, but most of the plebs bet on the charioteer.

When the chariot was already very close, Ilya fell on his stomach. The blade passed dangerously close to him, and he felt a breeze.

While the charioteer was turning around, Ilya jumped up and ran towards the overturned chariot. It was light, in fact a small platform, designed for two people standing shoulder to shoulder, with a waist-high fence. Ilya easily put it on wheels, flew up onto the chariot, grabbed the reins and whipped the horse on the croup. Having managed to catch her breath, she rushed away.

From the outside it seemed that driving the chariot was easy and simple. But there was nothing to hold on to, the chariot shook and tossed, and Ilya had to balance on his feet, maintaining his balance. If he had experience, skill, but Ilya rode a chariot for the first time; there were no such carts in Rus'.

The second one was catching up with his cart. Ilya pulled the right rein, but the horse was already making a smooth turn. A horse is a smart animal and will not go against an obstacle in the form of a grandstand fence.

The second driver shortened the path at the turn, chasing Ilya - he was only two lengths behind.

Ilya looked back, wondering what to do. Neither he nor the charioteer have weapons, so why then is the pursuer catching up with him?

The horses drew level, and the driver began to whip Ilya with the reins, trying to throw him off the chariot. They couldn’t get close side to side of the chariot because of the blades, there was a meter and a half between them.

Ilya first moved to the left wall of the chariot, where the driver could hardly reach, except perhaps the very end. It was necessary to urgently look for a way out. In fact, the uncontrollable horses themselves ran along the track along the stands.

When they passed the turn and entered the straight, Ilya made up his mind. He rushed to the starboard side, pushed off with his legs, flew over the blades and fell on the charioteer. Of average height and build, the charioteer was literally crushed by Ilya. His bones crunched, he screamed and twitched.

Ilya rose from his knees and threw the charioteer to the ground.

As the chariot approached the emperor's bed, Ilya pulled on the reins. Now, directly in front of Ilya, but higher, at the level of the second or third floor, sat the emperor. He saw the fight and was unhappy. There was only one person left in the arena, but it was not a charioteer, but a Christian.

- Ave, Decius! – Ilya raised his hand.

- Ave, unknown! – The Emperor raised his right hand at the elbow – almost like in a Nazi salute. - Do you want to ask me for mercy? Let's ask the people of Rome.

The Colosseum was clearly built by outstanding architects, since the acoustics were excellent, and even the distant rows of spectators could clearly hear what the emperor was saying.

The people were pleased that he could decide something - after all, they asked his opinion, even in such a small matter. And Ilya clearly liked some of the spectators, because he saw closed fists. But there were more hands with the thumb protruding to the side.

-What is your name, Christian?

- Ilya the Barbarian.

This was a signal. The grate in the passage rose, and three guards with swords in their hands entered the arena - three armed against one unarmed! No one doubted the imminent and inevitable death of Ilya.

Yeah! The wrong one was attacked! Ilya whipped the horse, and it rushed forward. The guards did not expect this, they hesitated for a second, and two of them immediately fell under the deadly knives. Only one jumped into the arena and ran to the center.

More recently, the situation looked exactly the opposite, Ilya was running around the arena, and the charioteer was hunting for him. But the guard had a trump card - a sword, while Ilya was unarmed. And against such a convincing argument it is difficult to oppose anything other than another sword.

Ilya turned his horse and pointed it at the guard. He was dexterous, experienced and chose the same tactics that Ilya used. At the last moment, when Ilya was no longer able to change the direction of movement, the guard jumped to the side.

The spectators encouraged the guard by shouting:

- Kill the Christian!

And at that moment the guard decided to take a desperate act. He sheathed his sword and the second Ilya pointed his horse at him, he remained standing calmly.

When it seemed that the horse was about to inevitably hit the man with its chest, the guard took a step to the side, grabbed the mane with his hands, pushed off the ground with his feet and fell on the horse’s back. Such a trick could have been performed by a physically strong, dexterous and determined person. And in this the guard was not inferior to Ilya.

He spun on his horse to face the chariot, grabbed a sword from its sheath and tried to reach Ilya with it.

The audience roared with delight. You rarely see such acrobatic performances, one might say.

Ilya had to dodge - now to the right, now to the left, bend down, and also try to somehow maintain balance.

Realizing the futility of his attempts, the guard turned around and slashed the horse in the neck with his sword. The poor animal rushed along by inertia for a couple of tens of meters, then its legs gave way from weakness caused by heavy bleeding, and it collapsed. But a moment before that, the guard jumped off his horse and rolled head over heels across the arena.

Ilya turned around.

The guard jumped up and, limping, rushed to the chariot.

When the horse fell, Elijah also jumped from the chariot. Out of the corner of his eye he saw that the guard was already nearby.

The events unfolded so quickly that not everyone in the stands had time to see and understand what was really happening in the arena. All the actions took place in front of the imperial box, as if it had all been specially arranged.

The guard swung his sword, Ilya leaned to the side, stepped back, tripped over the body of a dead Christian, lost his balance and fell.

In one leap, the guard reached Ilya and plunged his sword into his chest. Then he threw his bloody sword up, and the stands exploded with joyful cries. The guard approached the emperor's bed, sheathed his sword, put his right hand to his heart and raised it up, greeting Decius.

The Emperor nodded favorably. At last the people received a spectacle, and the Christians fell.

Decius rose from his chair:

– Greetings, brave citizen of Rome! The ancient gods of our land helped you defeat a religion alien to us. Hail Rome!

The crowd in the stands screamed.

But not everyone was happy. There were people watching the action in the arena in silence, even somehow indifferently. These were Christians who came to see the terrible death of their brothers and tell others about it.

After the blow of the sword pierced his body, Ilya felt severe pain and weakness, and consciousness left him.

He lay for a long time in the arena next to the corpses.

When the Colosseum was empty and the gates were closed, slaves entered the field. They collected the bodies and took them on a cart to special rooms. Ilya, as if in a dream, felt how two people lifted him up and threw him onto the cart.

“This Christian is heavy and huge,” said the slave.

- And I finished like the others. And tomorrow their bodies will be eaten by crocodiles - then these creatures will have a holiday.

- What an abomination!

- They were specially brought from Egypt - they are painfully intimidating to those who disagree with the emperor.

- Yes, at least they ate all the Romans!

- Shhh! Do you really want to get caught by the crocodiles with your long tongue? Roll the cart!

Ilya woke up at night. Voices were heard very close to him, and the light of two torches cast uncertain, wavering shadows.

“I would like to take the body of Presbyter Anthony.”

- Look, you know him by sight...

- Help, all the bodies are piled up.

- It will cost more sesterces.

- Agree.

Due to weakness, Ilya could not turn his head, and a cold, lifeless body lay on top of him.

The slaves - and they were the ones who moved the bodies from place to place - illuminated the faces of the dead with a torch. The invisible man said to Ilya:

- Not him, we continue to look.

-Who is he to you? Relative?

- You can say so.

The second slave intervened:

- Yusuf, what difference does it make to you? A man pays money for a body, come on, move.

- Not him. It's a pity for the guy, he held out the longest, he was the last to be killed. They say that the emperor gave this guard a golden aureus.

– They’re lying, it’s a silver denarius.

At this moment Ilya groaned. He couldn’t speak because of his weakness, but he wanted to somehow show that he was alive. Declaring himself now is his only chance, otherwise in the morning he will be thrown into a pool with crocodiles along with other bodies.

- Yusuf, did you hear?

- It looks like someone is moaning.

– Quiet, let’s listen, it suddenly seemed.

Ilya moaned again.

“I swear to all the gods, this guy is alive!”

A man approached them - Ilya understood this from his steps.

– You said he’s alive?

- Exactly. He moaned. Could it be that we were both imagining things?

- Put it on the cart, I'll pick it up.

- Eh, no. First the money, as agreed.

The clink of coins was heard.

- Dear, will you look for a second one?

- If you do this quickly, maybe you can still help the guy...

A few minutes of searching, and the body of the presbyter was found. He was placed on a cart next to Ilya.

– Would the gentleman want to pay for delivery in advance? It's night time, the guards are doing their rounds, and we wouldn't want to get into trouble. You will run away, and we will take the rap.

The coins jingled again.

“You are worse than robbers,” said the stranger.

“Everyone has their own job, and money is never too much,” said Yusuf.

- As agreed - I go ahead, you pull the cart behind me.

The slaves covered the bodies with a piece of thick cloth and began to push the cart. She bounced on uneven surfaces, and Ilya shook violently.

The lock on the iron bars clanged and the cart, pushed by slaves, rolled out of the Colosseum. The stranger, and behind him the slaves with the cart, made their way through the narrow alleys, illuminated only by the moon.

The cart stopped at some wall with a door. The slaves removed the bodies from the cart and carried them through the door - behind it was a closed room.

“Thank you,” said the stranger. “I trust you will keep your mouth shut.”

- Not the first time, sir!

The slaves came out and the wheels of the cart rumbled.

The stranger locked the door from the inside and went out through another. Soon he returned with another man, as Ilya understood - a doctor. The oil lamp was lit.

“This guy is alive, he was moaning,” said the stranger. - He needs help.

The doctor brought the lamp to Ilya’s face. Its meager light seemed bright to Ilya, and he closed his eyelids. The doctor leaned against his chest and listened.

But Ilya groaned again, and the doctor recoiled in fear.

“Matthias, you’ve known me for several days now; people don’t live with such wounds.”

- He was moaning...

- This is agony.

Ilya gathered his strength and whispered with dry lips:

His barely audible whisper sounded like a clap of thunder on a clear day for both men. Matthias and the doctor crossed themselves.

The doctor came to his senses first:

- Matthias, bring wine - only undiluted.

A few minutes later, Matthias handed the doctor a mug of wine. The doctor raised Ilya's head, brought the mug to his lips, and Ilya was able to take a few sips. He felt the blood flowing through his veins after drinking.

“I need to go to the oak tree,” Ilya whispered. He didn’t even understand why these particular words came out of his mouth.

The doctor looked at the wounded man with pity and fear. According to his ideas, a person with such a wound should have died long ago, but he took a sip of wine and began to talk... Will they carry him alive to the oak tree?

“There’s an oak tree in the backyard,” Matthias said doubtfully.

“Then let’s hurry up, maybe this is the last wish of a dying man.”

The men took Ilya by the arms and legs and carried him.

They didn't have to walk for long, but they stumbled more than once in the darkness. Finally they stopped and laid Elijah at the foot of the tree.

– Your name is Ilya, isn’t it? I think that's what you called yourself in front of the imperial box? Here is the oak tree, as you asked, you can touch it with your hand.

But how can Ilya touch him if weakness has shackled his limbs?

And the doctor made a gesture of goodwill: he took Ilya’s hand and put it to the bark of the tree.

At that same second, Ilya felt a warm wave pass through his body. After a few minutes, his chest stopped hurting, he heard his heart beating evenly, and took a deep breath. Strength began to increase, as if the tree was feeding him with its vital energy. Lethargy and weakness went away, he was reborn to life.

After a few more minutes, he raised himself on his elbow, causing fear in the doctor - he recoiled in fear. And Ilya sat down, leaning on his hands, he himself moved towards the tree and pressed his back against it.

The doctor muttered:

- The Lord performed a miracle! The dead are being reborn before our eyes...

Matthias, frozen in place, looked at the miracle happening in the twilight with wide open eyes - the presbyter saw the healing of an almost dead man for the first time. He had previously believed in the rebirth of Christ after the crucifixion, but to see it for himself is different, it makes a strong, indelible impression. And he, afraid to miss even a small detail, held his breath.

Ilya, feeling better, stood up himself, albeit slowly and carefully. Turning, he pressed his chest and his whole body against the tree.

The doctor was in prostration.

After another half hour, Ilya felt almost healthy.

- Doctor - sorry, I don’t know your name - give me some wine... Yes, I would have eaten - I haven’t had a bread crumb in my mouth for three days.

Matthias responded:

- Come with me, Ilya.

He took Ilya’s hand, feeling the warmth of a living body. In his heart he was afraid - was Ilya dead? What if he was possessed by an evil spirit, a demon? And now it’s not a man in front of him, but a devil in human form?

The doctor walked after them. He had been healing people for a long time, was knowledgeable in his field, knew medicinal herbs, knew how to sew wounds and bandage them. But what was happening before his eyes did not fit in his head. He saw a wide wound on the chest and the same on the back, he saw a body covered in blood. With such wounds the person dies instantly. But the guy survived the arena, now he talks and walks on his own two feet. It was time to believe in healing from above, in the action of higher powers.

Matthias, a Greek by birth, led Ilya into a small kitchen and sat him down at the table. While he was fussing around, collecting food, the doctor approached Ilya from behind. The wound was not visible. Not believing his eyes, the doctor brought the oil lamp closer - there was not even a scar on the skin, it was clean and smooth.

The doctor came in front. There is not a wound, not a deep abrasion, not even a scratch on Ilya’s mighty chest.

The doctor rubbed his hand over his eyes, but even after that nothing changed: the wound was not visible, as if it had never existed and he had imagined it. But the doctor clearly remembered that when he saw this guy, he was in more than a deplorable state, literally dying. An unusual phenomenon! As a doctor, he became interested in the unique case.

Matthias placed tin bowls with cheese, flatbread and dates in front of Ilya.

- Sorry, I have nothing else.

Ilya attacked the food - he felt very hungry. And Matthias and the doctor watched in fascination as he ate.

When Ilya had had his fill and thanked him, the presbyter took him to a small closet:

– Rest, the past days have been difficult for you. And I will think about your fate.

Ilya lay down and fell asleep.

He woke up late - no one bothered him - and began to think about what to do next. Return to the senator's house? What if one of the servants saw him in the Colosseum arena? A Christian who was publicly killed suddenly appears in the house! It will turn out ridiculous... There is no need to rush, rushing in his position can lead to irreparable mistakes.

Ilya hoped for Matthias - translated from Greek this name meant “gift of God.” Maybe fate brought them together for a reason?

Matthias showed up at Ilya’s closet around noon.

- Ave, Elijah!

- Awe, Matthias.

- How do you feel?

“For someone who was killed yesterday, that’s quite good.” I would even eat...

- A little bit later.

It was felt that Matthias was preoccupied. He began to ask Ilya what region he was from, with whom he lived in Rome, whether he was baptized, and which Christians he knew in Rome.

Ilya answered clearly. Lived in Rus', recently arrived in Rome from Sicily, served with Senator Servilius Gracchus.

Understandably, Matthias wanted to know who he brought into his house. By definition, Ilya could not be a traitor, but can he be trusted? After all, Matthias risked not only his own skin, but also the Christian community of Rome.

Ilya spent several days in the closet assigned to him while Matthias double-checked the information Ilya had reported about himself - a mistake could be costly. But one evening Matthias came with a pleased look:

Ilya didn’t ask where, it was necessary - that means it was necessary.

Matthias gave Ilya a worn, but clean and good-quality tunic.

We walked along dark alleys for a long time, changing direction more than once. Ilya suspected that Matthias wanted to confuse him so that he could not determine where they came from and where they were going. Well, he succeeded: it was dark, an unfamiliar area, they went completely to the outskirts... Ilya became worried, but Matthias led him confidently.

They entered a cave and were met at the entrance by a man with a torch in his hand. He immediately recognized Matthias:

- Greetings, brother. Who is this with you?

– Elijah is the one from the Colosseum.

- ABOUT! - the man burst out: he was clearly a guard or gatekeeper and understood that entering the cave was undesirable for outsiders.

The man handed the presbyter a torch, lighting it with his own.

They walked for a long time through winding passages that were clearly not of natural origin, since traces of tools were visible on the walls. Finally they came out into a spacious but low-vaulted hall. Previously, there were underground mines here, now abandoned, but now Roman Christians gathered for communal prayers and sermons.

The catacombs or underground workings stretched far and had several exits even in the city itself. Christians, so as not to attract attention, made their way into the catacombs through different entrances.

Ilya looked around at those present. Men and women, young and old - there were about three hundred of them. Judging by the faces, they are of different nationalities - Greeks, Romans, Jews. Ilya has already learned to distinguish them by facial features, and not just by language. He sat down on a stone to the side.

The presbyter began to communicate with the parishioners. He spoke about the death of an entire group of parishioners in the Colosseum arena, although many already knew about it. Then he read the funeral prayer.

Ilya, like the others, crossed himself and bowed. The presbyter asked to hide the crosses under clothes and not to be baptized in public on the streets and squares. And at the end he asked Ilya to come over.

“This is one of our brothers who fought bravely in the arena with a guard, and before that he subdued a lion.” Has anyone seen him before?

A girl approached from the far end of the hall:

- I saw. I, along with other prisoners, were driven to the Colosseum. This man gave the guard a gold ring and took my place. I owe him my life.

“His name is Elijah,” the presbyter pointed his finger at Elijah. “From now on, he is one of us, like a brother in faith.”

- Vivat! - the parishioners of the underground church cried out.

– I have a request to ask: who can temporarily shelter a newcomer to the community?

The girl responded immediately:

- Good is answered with good - it will be gladly received in our home.

- Well, fine! God bless you all! See you here on Friday! And I ask you not to disperse in groups - alone, be careful.

Diana hugged Ilya:

“I didn’t even know the name of my savior.” It turns out, Elijah. Nice name. I'm glad to see you in good health. Come on, I'll introduce you to your parents. – Diana took his hand.

She led him confidently, it was felt that she had been here more than once.

Ratibor. Forgotten Gods Yuri Korchevsky

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Title: Ratibor. Forgotten Gods

About the book “Ratibor. Forgotten Gods" Yuri Korchevsky

Ilya Poddubny, who found himself in pagan Rus' and took the name Ratibor, is transferred to the Roman Empire by the will of the pagan goddess Mokosha. Disappointed in the Slavic gods, he dreams of becoming a full-fledged Roman and simply living, but, once in the Eternal City, he is captured by legionnaires and, as a Christian, thrown into the arena of the Colosseum. But the whole reason was his desire to protect the weak! Having renounced paganism, Ratibor is forced, for the amusement of the public, to defend those whom he recently considered his enemies...

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