The House of Acanthus - (inspired by The Nowhere Legion by SBH.) Last Update: 8 June 2013

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Now that images look great.

Fret not my dear friend, as the others have said - you cannot rush perfection. I'll look forward to the update.

[Diocle]

(....."Fret not my dear friend"....Now you know that...sooner or later...I'll use these words from Lord Shankbot for a new short story....of our Diplomat....)


Thanks SdB! I'll try to write a good update, I hope (it's almost finished now.....)

[Diocle]

So here it is! Its name is "Legion", I decided to split the chapter in two parts, mainly for two reason: 1) It was really a gigantic update. 2) It the update was already subdivided in two parts.
The second part is almost ready so the wait will be shorter.

If you want war, battles, and blood you'll not find them, here you'll find more! You'll find, gentle reader: images, memories and sounds from the abyss of time and space, you'll find friendship, despair and some good old humanity.

So good reading and happy Sunday my beloved and precious readers!

[Diocle]

THE HOUSE OF ACANTHUS

EXIGUA PARS EST VITAE QUAM NOS VIVIMUS
"A SMALL PART OF THE LIFE IS THAT WE LIVE"

LEGION

First Part:
SHADOWS

I was leaning against the plane and I was wondering what had happened, those words still rang in my head as I was watching the man walking towards his companions, I had not been able to say anything sensible, now as he left, I wanted to ask him what language he was speaking, because he knew a language that I had learned in school, but it was no longer spoken, who was the man and who were his comrades? Why did they save us? what had we to await from them for the future? But the amazement and fatigue prevented me acting and thinkinng clearly, so I followed him but just with my gaze, as he was walking away to reach the group of Bedouins, who were unloading the camels parcels on a slight rise of the ground about three hundred meters from the plane; they were about thirty men and more camels, all dressed in black and with the ​​head veiled, their appearance was that of the Tuareg; from where I stood, I could not see even a gun, and this was a particularly pretty weird, almost as it was, the silence that enveloped the men, it seemed that they weren’t talking, not even a single word could be percieved, except perhaps some gestures and signs.

It was in that moment that Antonio appeared, long black beard and wild eyes, he was as happy as I did not see from a long time, he hugged me and told me spitting water and sand:

"Ottavio! You're alive! We are all alive! Madonna, it’s almost unbelivable, I never seen a fortune like this! These damned Bedouins have saved our ass! All seem so crazy! Do you want some water? They are unloading dozens of water-filled bags! And even food! For free! They don’t ask nothing in return! We're saved and those Arabs are completely mad!”

“Yeah!…but what a wondeful kind of madness!”

I replied, while he was already running away, toward the tailgate of the plane, from which had just descended Guido, they hug each other, and Antonio disappeared into the fuselage yelling gibberish, extolling that 'The fortune favors the bolds', and shouting searching for Max!
Guido was walking slowly towards me, in the meantime I was crouching on my heels with the arms resting on the knees, while my attention could not turn away from that group of men and camels. When Guido was closer to me, looking at him, I realized how much the death this time had passed close to us, leaving on our bodies a grim reminder of his presence, we were really in a pitiable condition, more dead than alive, almost the spectra around the carcass of an old war machine, ghosts listening the sounds of a dead language, spectra not belonging to the real world and shadows of a distant war.

"Ottavio, those who doesn't die, they meet again! I changed my mind about water: It’s good!
Those gentlemen are very kind to us, poor aviators of the Duce. Looking from the door I saw that one of them was walking away from here, did he talk with you? In what Language? French I suppose ... "

"Yes! I Don’t speak French very well, but using my school French, I managed to communicate with him! "

I lied. That was the first time I consciously lied to Guido and all my friends about Octavius ​​and his men, and since then, I no longer have stopped. How many times in the days that followed I wondered why I lied, why, almost without thinking about it, I decided that they did not have to share my first meeting with Octavius; there wasn’t and there isn’t a clear and easy answer to this question, maybe I was afraid they would laughed at me not believing to my story, or perhaps I was afraid that telling them the facts , I would break the spell that the mysterious face and words of Octavius ​​had conjured up around me, or more probably, I was just jealous of my secret, after all, I had been chosen by the fate and I was the only one to have the right to enter the strange world of assumptions and dreams.

During what remained of the day, Octavius ​​and his men set up what looked like a provisory camp on one of the first dunes to the East of the plane, more than one kilometer from our position, an unusually ordered encampement for desert nomads, the tents seemed placed in a row, with camels and luggage placed in a rational and practical position, all of this offered a strange image of military order, the more I watched the more my curiosity was growing.
In the meantime, we tried to rearrange ourselves, we washed ourselves using sand, slamming our uniforms and flight suits best we could, we positioned a plane camouflage net, that was in the fuselage, it was no longer so necessary being seen from the sky.
The beard was a true problem, shaving was unthinkable, but we managed at least to shorten our beards, washing our faces with a little water, andeverything seemed almost a unexpected luxury.
At sunset, the nomads were still in their camp, none of them had approached again the plane, we were sitting around a small fire, made with fuel oil and some dry bushes, heated by boiling water there were a kind of tea that the Bedouin had left us, with the strange spelt cakes that were really delicious, we even had some dried meat but we were unable to eat much of it, our stomachs were too tested from the thirst and fasting suffered.

"Do you know what would we need now guys? A good expresso! "

Antonio was feeling better, it was clear!

"Anto, I'll tell you once again, then I shot you: Enough about coffee! I'm your captain and I can shoot you on the spot without trial, for: Insubordination, serious harassment to your Commanding Officer, Betrayal and Defeatism! Enough! Drink your tea! Shut up and thank the Tuareg! "

Max was peremptory, as our insults covereing Antonio, when he protested he had the right to dream! Then Max, once again, introduced the serious issues we had to face:

"Listen guys, we're alive and we have a lot of water, but our lives depend on the group of Tuareg, there, on the dune. Our problem at this point is, what to do. Those Arabs, perhaps, can help us to find a way to take us somewhere, but where? Unfortunately, I think the only option is to give us the nearest British camp, actually we are also running the risk of being regarded as spies and shot on the spot. "

"But," said Antonio, "If they indicate us the nearest driveway, we, disguising ourselves as Bedouins, could assault the first isolated truck passing, and then run right to the coast, and from there ..."

"This is a perfect plot for a comic, too bad we are not Mandrake or Phantom" said Guido lashing.

"All right! Then we give ourselves as four idiots! Is this better? A few years rotting in some concentration camp in India or Kenya?”

Max replied, "I told you, guys, that clearly for us the war was over, there is no reasonable hope of returning home. Unfortunately, this is the war. And believe me, I am the first to understand how it can be painful to spend years away from home, in a prison camp ... "

Then fell a bleak silence, we all had noticed how Max had changed during those days, and we all knew that the thought of his family, he would never met again, perhaps for years, was the origin of his sadness, and everyone, including Antonio, knew that Max was right, imprisonment was the future that awaited us.

Antonio cursing our fate, exclaimed: "Damnit! Think that with a little of fuel and two nails, I would be able to set this damn machine to fly agian! Damn it again and again!"

"Antonio, it’s no more time to dream, tomorrow we’ll go to those Bedouins and ask them to take us to the nearest British camp. This we'll do, because this is the only sensible thing we can do."

Max's voice was low and his eyes were, now, distant from us, lost elsewhere chasing the dear memories and the images of a life he would no longer lived.

The curse of Antonio, shook me from my thoughts, I had no part in the conversation, in fact my mind, or a part of it, was far away, I could not get out of my head those Latin words, I could not forget the face of Octavius​​, I had to know what I had seen, and with whom I spoke, almost without realising it, I had decided, the words almost came from my lips without my being aware of them:

"Guys .... I’ll go to them and I’ll ask them what they want to do with us and if they can help us in some way!"

Everyone turned looking at me, they did not answer me right away, they stood there staring at me, probably no one expected a similar offer on my part, so no one knew what to say or what to think, in the end it was Antonio who spoke first:

"But you! Why not? You've already spoken with one of them right? After all, what's the harm if one comes to them, asking for some informations? Sure they'll not hurt you, after all, those damn Bedouins have saved us, and now they stay there, on top of a dune, about their business, as if we didn’t exist......For me it is a great idea! Ottavio if you want, I'll come with you ..”

"There is no need Anto” I replied “Thank you! You know, I think if I’ll be alone, all the matter could be easier."

"Yeah, all right, but what do you say them?" Guido interjected, "Maybe we should know first of all why they have came here to save us, and then.....what they want to do with us, even if you can learn something about where we are exactly, I mean, a position, traced on a map, and then maybe....if they wish to help us, there is also the way throught the Desert, till the Red Sea, following a caravan perhaps it could be reached, and once there, you might search for a boat…”

"Ah, this is good!" said Antonio, "the Red Sea and then Ethiopia, why did not I think of that?"

We were already dreaming, without even noticing the sky was slowly taking fire for yet another glowing sunset. I said:

"There's a war but maybe , a small boat, at night off the Arabic coast, it might pass unnoticed .."

"Then maybe we met some of your friends of Italian Submarines, lurking around there waiting for ships to sink...." Antonio said doubtfully.

"Sure, but a small boat might really pass unnoticed..." Guido, who had enjoyed the perspective, added: "Otto, I speak French quite well, if you want I'll come with you...."

I fumbled a little, looking for an answer, persuasive and logical, to say no; because I wanted to be alone to talk with Octavius​​, in the end, I improvising the best I could, I came up with:

"Guido, I talked with who seemed to be the boss, he doesn’t seem a dangerous man.....but why going there in two? We might seem worried, and they might suspect that we do not trust them, or we want to spy on them, you know, it's strange people, it'd be better not to make them suspicious about ourselves.”

Antonio, at the maximum of his pessimism, now:

"They could also take us and sell us in bulk to the British.... but before I surrender to these beggars, I’d get rid quite a bit of them with the machine gun there.....But it all seems so strange!"

He was Max, who had been listening in silence, as if he wasn’t too interested in our discussion, who resolved the issue:

"Ottavio, if you feel like it, go. Try to learn as much as you can, about where we are and about their intentions, by also look at their weapons, how many and what kind, try not to tell too much about who we are and why we are here, maybe it's an isolated tribe unaware the War, so less they know, the better it is for us; in short, be wary, and come back as soon as you can. I appoint you, Officer for Relations with the Natives! Now go! Before it gets dark. "

Looking at his smile, I see the shadow of the concern for our future in his eyes, I had to do something for saving those friend of mine and myself.
I stood up, I was excited, I gave a sprinkling in the flight suit and flight jacket, I put on my hat, Guido offered me his flask of Cognac, with the approval of Antonio, who was convinced that, Muhammad or not, everybody likes a little Cognac, he also confessed he had found a crate of twelve bottles into the fuselage, it was for the Fascisthierarchs, which we had to carry in Ethiopia.
I was ready now, so I started my walk in the light of the sunset, the Sun was low, the stars already high in the sky blue of the incoming evening, looking at the design of my shadow stretched on red sand; now I was alone, and while I was walking away, I could hear the voice of Antonio telling me:

"Ask them if they have a little gasoline and maybe some screws and bolts, we'll pay for them!", the last thing I heard made me smile, he was was Guido telling me:

"OK, I'll settle, instead, for some newspapers, like the ‘Corriere della Sera’ or ‘La Stampa di Torino’, but please, not the ‘Il Popolo d’Italia!’ (the newspaper of Benito Mussolini)

Antonio harsh: “Ah! Finally!! Guido you admit it! You are an anti-fascist!" and Guido relentless replied, and was the last thing I heard by my friends: "Anto, about politics I use the words of Mussolini: “Me ne frego!” ( 'I don’t care!')

Dear friends! I was feeling like a traitor, their voices were now lost in the silence of the sunset, I wanted to go alone, I did not want anyone with me, but what did really interest me? What was I looking for? It was for them, for my friends, that I was walking or was I just obeying an intense memory that it did not want to leave my mind? The curiosity to understand, the need see once again the face of stone, that was engraved in my mind and in my heart, were were now masters of my mind.
While I was covering the space separating the Savoia Marchetti from the dune, it was as if I was going along a space infinitely greater than that one single kilometer, it was as if I were leaving my friends, the war, the present, to go in an elsewhere, where my mind wanted me to enter.

My steps into the sunset followed my shadow projected on the sand, a shadow thin and extremely elongated, a mysterious vanguard of my dreams, it was leading me to cross an invisible threshold between two worlds; it was like one of those mysterious small Etruscan sculptures, slender and stretched, whose actual name was ‘Shadows’ or ‘EveningShadows', perhaps images of a mysterious elsewhere.

In fact this was happening, while I was walking it was as if I were leaving the present and the real world to reach an elsewhere I did not know, but I knew that it was there on the dune, it was a kind of initiatory journey, like crossing a door between two worlds, a short distance to carry a long way, and these were my feelings during those moments.

The closer I got, the better I could see the camp of the men of the desert; I could barely see the dark shapes on top of the dune, I felt the smell of fire and food, along with the wild smell of the camels, those feelings made me get out of that strange atmosphere of dream which had captured me during the walk and when I came closer and I could see the low tents of the camp the enchantment that had accompanied me up to that place, was completely gone.
I was wondering, with growing alarm, what I came to do, what could I ask to those men, all now was starting to seem really senseless!

The change in my mood had been sudden, suddenly the whole situation had begun to seem absurd to me, it was probably caused by my poor physical conditions, which certainly had left my mind in a state no less disastrous than that of my body.
In the end, I was only the voice of four poor desperate, people who did not even know why they were still alive, fighting a distant war, and shipwrecked without hope in this sea of ​​sand.
I was thiking about Octavius, ​​or whatever his name, now our first meeting seemed an absurdity as that name: Com’on! I was almost in a coma and I was dreaming images and sounds linked to my childhood at home, it happens when you are close to die, you see what your mind wants you to see and it is as if I were already far away from life.
What was I doing there? What would I say? The legs were almost shaking it was not so much the fear, but the fatigue of those days weighed now on me; when I started walking I felt good but now, I was discovering the forces was leaving me and a dark depression had taken possession of me, if I'd stopped I'd probably come back to the plane, but I was already a few meters from the camp and my legs were moving on their own; so I entered the encampement, without anyone saying anything to me, in fact there were very few people around, I noticed, almost in the middle of the square open space created by the tents, with a disposition 'L' shaped, on two sides, slightly moved on the opposite angle of the camp, there was a campfire, with three figures sitting around it, the light of the sunset, meanwhile, had became purple red.

I stood uncertain what to do, I was perceiving them before I even could see them: The group of camels, which were many and lined up with a decent order on the opposite side of the tents;
I did not liked the camels! They seemed to me meaningless and stupid animals, without force, I remember my first horse she was a mare named Cora: nerves, muscles, speed and generosity, it had been a beautiful friendship, she was strong and gentle with me, and I felt strong when we were riding there on our mountains……But what was I thinking? “This is not the time to start dreaming Ottavio!”
I plucked up courage and I headed for the space in between the tents, I had decided to reach the men sitting around the fire, there was a disturbing silence, but while I was approaching, I could hear, at times, the sound of low voices probably coming from inside the tents, I did not understand the language or the words, but the sounds had several voices....and a lot of vowels! “Stop it, Ottavio!” I ordered myself to stop dreaming and imagining strange languages! Then I decided it was time to clarify the situation once and for all, and to do the job for which I had come there! If only I had known clearly what was the job I had to do!

When I was about ten meters away from the three men, I recognized him: He was sitting turning his back to me, but the head shape was unmistakable! The man was Octavius!
Now I was happy, I didn’t know why, but knowing that I could talk to him again, it made me glad! My steps now were faster, and in a few moments, I found myself standing next to him, but he did not turn to look at me; the two men who were sitting in front of him, were looking at me absently, sipping a hot drink. Over the coals there were spits, with smoked meat and buns, I was standing there, unable to say a word, not that I expected a great welcome, but that indifference was blocking me, they were moments of panic; when finally, Octavius turning the spit over the coals, with the left hand, struck his right hand on a bag on the ground near him, on his right side, and with a brief nod, invited me to sit down next to him, or so it seemed to me, I accepted the invitation immediatly, I was quite tired and nervous, so I found myself sitting cross-legged on the ground next to him.
I was now looking at the men in front of me, their faces were marked by the desert and by the years, a few scars, gray hair and gray beards; one of them was looking like an Arab with piercing and very mobile dark eyes; the other, had a wider face, with hard features, he seemed like a German or Balkan although I knew it was impossible, I thought that the faces of these Tuareg were really impressive, strange people.
Nobody was talking, at some point, Octavius ​​glanced at the other two men, and these, like an old habit of obedience, obeying to his nod, rose and left silently, heading towards the tents.

Meanwhile, the evening had really come, the light and colors of the sunset had died, it was that particular moment in which the day is ending, but night hasn’t yet come, and the indigo sky, far and already starry, was spreading a cold blue light over every thing; in those moments it seems that a shared vibration makes all forms and colors unstable, almost indistinct, ready to vanish in the dark of night.
The moment and the Indigo sky were singing perfectly to my mood, I was happy to be next to the man whose mystery had seized my mind, but there was a dark anxiety upon me, actually caused by mystery of that meeting, and by the endless questions that remained as suspended between us: Who are you Octavius? Who are all your men in this place? Why have you saved us? Why do you speak the language of my ancestors? Why we have the same name? What’s Italy for you? What lies ahead and what future have you decided for us, lost in this nowhere? Too many questions! And I did not know where to start from, or perhaps actually I was more afraid by the answers than by the questions themselves; we were sitting together, but the silence was almost a tangible presence between us.

He was Octavius ​​to break the painful atmosphere of deadlock, when, taking a skewer from the embers, he handed it to me with a natural gesture almost usual and natural, and it was that gesture so simple and the very fact of eating with him, those loaves of spelled flour, which unblocked the situation; it was as if the engine of the time had been set in motion again.
I decided that I would start our conversation in French, this because I was a normal person and therefore, being impossible that the words of Octavius ​​were really Latin words, I established that I would have started our conversation using the French, and in French then I would have asked who he was and who were his men, and then I would have explained him, who we were and what we were doing in the Arabic desert, then I would continue the conversation; so now it was only necessary to begin to speak, only that to do so, it would have needed a little of 'courage; it was then, that I remembered the flask of Cognac of Guido, a good opportunity to start a conversation and to thank him, so I excalaimed, handing him the silver engraved flask:

"Très bon ces petits pains, voudrais vous essayer cette liqueur?" ('Very good this flat bread, do you want to taste this liquor?')

Octavius, turning his head, looked at me blankly, and then took the flask and I saw that his eyes paused gazing at the details of the incision and at the glint of metal, I thought: 'Is done! Look the Tuareg enchanted by silver!', but his next words put an end to my brief silly illusion, how wrong I was! Indeed, in a clear and simple way, worthy of the Latin poet Catullus, Octavius ​​said:

"Bella laguncula, argentum est?" ('Nice flask, is it silver?')

Now there was nothing to do, no doubt, no excuses: I was awake, I was fine, my mind was working perfectly, and the man sitting next to me was talking to me in the clearest Latin I'd ever heard. His words were clear and simple, while my life would have been no more so simple! I was too confused to think, so while Octavius was sniffing the contents of the flask suspiciously, I decided that now, at that point, I would speak to him in Latin, the better I could, hoping that what was yet to happen, maybe could give me some logical explanation for everything that I was experiencing. I said:

"Argentum est, et vinum veterus ac fortissimus tenet ..." ('It's silver and it contains an old and very strong wine')

Octavius then ​​gazed at me curiously, and raising the flask to his lips, with a decisive gesture took a long sip, then he stayed there for a long moment, his head slightly back and the eyes closed, he seemed to be savoring the liquor, finding the taste of a forgotten pleasure, then lowered his head and rubbed his eyes with the back of his calloused hand, and he stood still, his forehead resting on his fist, for a time that I cannot calculate, I was surprised by his reaction, then when he looked at me, his eyes were bright and shiny in the glow of the fire, and he told me giving back the flask to me:

"Iste liquor est optimus Ottavio, gratiae" ('This wine is very good Octavio, thank you!')

The conversation that followed was in Latin, as all our subsequent conversations; what we used was a simple language, a Latin Vulgar hardly declined so much that I used a little bit of Italian to improve his understanding of my words, and this was often helpful; of course I did not have a dictionary with me, but through the use, I learned a new language or perhaps rediscovered an ancient language as if it was emerging from some dark corner of my memory, and the more I was speaking it, the more that language became natural for me; perhaps I rediscovered the meaning of my own tongue , I could not say exactly, I just know that it was an amazing trip, indescribable, a journey into myself and in my culture, it was like finding a mother, re-knowing her by instinct; I know I'll never forget a single word of the extraordinary vocabulary I found talking with Octavius and his men; I don’t need to transcribe those sounds, they are now etched in the memory of my soul, I found them all, one by one. So now I will continue to write this diary, simply using my Italian, aware that the sweetness of that ancient Language is now forever part of me.

Now, I was in desperate need of a sip of Cognac, I was talking in the desert of Nefud in Latin to a man, named like me, who has told me he came from Italy, and, at this point, there was no reason to doubt the matter!
Turning to Octavius I was about to ask him who he was, but he, who was already gazing at me, anticipated my question once again, the man owned a great knowledge of life and his mind was very fast, behind that old face carved in stone, it hid a mind flexible and insightful, Octavius was a dangerous man, he asked me:

"From what part of Italy do you come, Ottavio?"

"Ah, well, really ..." I mumbled, while I was thinking that surely he couldn’t know even the name of Bordigera, it was a small village, so I chose the closest city, and in fact I didn’t lie, because it was really a few kilometers from us: "I come from Ventimiglia, or rather Albentemelia" I said, remembering to use the Latin name of the city.

He seemed pleasantly surprised and he said, upsetting me once again:

"Albentemelia? so you're a Ligurian? A half Gaul! Hahaha!" He laughed and then he continued:

"I know the place well! Albentemelia! When I was a boy I left Perusia in Umbria, where I was born, for embarking on board merchant ships, and in those years I have crossed all the seas of the Mare Nostrum: Adriatic, Aegean, Ionian and High and Low Tyrrenean, I know all the harbours and coves from Rome till Marseille!. Albentemelia! Beautiful small town."

Now he seemed happy to talk about and remember, I did not know to what time he was referring, when he described his travels in the Mediterranean, but the Latin he was using, left me an unpleasant feeling of a time too remote to be real.

" I spent a good time there. You know, close to Albentemelia" he continued, lost in his memories, "There was a cove at the foot of a nice hill, gently downing to the sea, flat as a shield, in which we sailors, when we went down to the ground, cooked the 'Garum' inside..."

"Inside the circular forms of stone carved directly into the rock" I said resignedly, completing his sentence, being more and more desperate.

"Yes, that's right, then you know the place!" He replied smiling to me, happy as I had not seen him yet, "It was the best Garum around the Tyrrhenian Sea! We cooked it and sold it as well! It was too good! "

Yeah Octavius, I knew that place! Now it’s called Villa Hambury! I spent whole days when I was a child, as a guest of the family of that old brigand of Lord Hambury.
It 's the most beautiful Botanical Garden in Southern Europe, taking advantage of the exceptionally mild climate of Western Liguria; Lord Hembury lived there, enriched with the slave trade in the midst of the world and later became Lord for his services to the British Empire.

There he had bought the hill, then he built the villa and he had created a small Botanical Paradise: Tropical plants and flowers and trees from the most distant and exotic places on the planet, populate the garden of Lord Hembury; the hill slopes gently toward the sea, where you can still see the ruins of a small ancient Roman cove, a stone pier almost submerged and circular shapes carved directly into the rock, in which the Romans were preparing the disgusting fish sauce called ‘Graum’; the issue here was that all this was happening something like nineteen hundred years ago! I took another sip of Cognac .

"Then you will know well this place for sure," continued Octavius, pitilessly, "There was a lovely place nearby, where we fished the fish to cook with the sauce, there were protected shallow waters...."

"Protected by bass rocks, which created natural dams, between the sea and the beach, and in the protected waters, the fish remained trapped...." Increasingly resigned, I completed again the description.

"Yeah! Just like that! The dams on the edge of the sea! And that was the name we gave to the place! Then you know the area well, son!......Of course! You come from there! "

I knew very well that place: It was my home! It was Bordighera!
Octavius ​​was telling me about the origin of the name of the little town where I was born.
‘Dams on the edge of the beach’: Bordighera.

Sadly Bordighera was founded in the fifteenth century AD! And today the small dams no longer exist, they are covered by the beach on which the town has developed in modern times. That man was describing me the land where I was born as it appeared two thousand years before I was born!
That man whose apparent age was between fifty and sixty years, told me his memories from when he was young, maybe thirty or forty years earlier, referring to the landscape of my country dating back to 2000 years ago! Octavius and me, we were in the same place in two different times, only that these two times were distant from each other, apparently two millennia!

I took another sip of cognac, but it was not very helpful. Now I was scared, that conversation was becoming a nightmare, it was like a bad nightmare, a nightmare damn realistic!
In that moment I just wanted to be in bed, at home, in my room, and I wanted to hear the voice of my mother who, entering the room say: "Ottavio, wake up it's late!". But nothing happened, indeed Octavius , with the words that followed, struck even the last brick in the wall of my rationality:

"But," he said, "after a few years of that life, I realized that it was not for me, it was just fatigue, risk of dying every day, carried away by Neptune or pirates, watching only, at the money flowing into the hands of merchants who enriched themselves with our damn work. There was no future."

He paused, his face had darkened suddenly at the sound of the word ‘future’, but then he said, as driving away an evil thought:

"So one day, while I was in a tavern in Salona, I was twenty and playing dice with a soldier, who told me of his military experiences, then I decided all of a sudden, to enlist! And so I did, and I entered into the Legion! At that time they needed soldiers, and I was a smart guy, I soon learned the craft and I’ve never regretted that choice, from that moment 'Legio est patria mia'! (‘The legion is my fatherland’)"

I was talking to a veteran of a Roman Legion.
I do not know if anyone will ever read these pages, they in fact constitute a perfect one entry ticket for a good madhouse! I do not know what he would have done another man in my place, I only know that my mind was in a state of total confusion, I was missing the ground under my feet, I was afraid, scared, terrified….for a moment I also thought that, maybe I had died and no one had saved me, but my senses were telling to me the opposite. I did not know what to do, I wanted to run away, but I did not know where to escape, I was talking to the dead, or perhaps with Death herself! She had worn the guise of Octavius. Carried away by the words of the man, I asked, trying not to scream and commanding myself to remain calm:

"Which Legion Octavius? Of which legion are you talking about?"

His deep voice became almost metallic and martial, when solemnly he chanted the full name of his Legion:

"Ducenarius Octavius ​​Velusius, Fifth Macedonica Legion, Eight Times Faithful, Loyal Eight Times!
The Most Ancient, the most Noble and the most Beautiful Legion among the Legions of Rome. Augustus himself founded the Legion V, and from then on She had been Forever Faithful and Forever Loyal."

With a terrible effort of will, I had the strength to whisper:

"Ducenarius Octavius, can I ask you what year we are now?"

"I think it is the year 1117 Ab Urbem Condita that ...."

"No! Thanks! I already know when it was founded Roma!” I exclaimed now exasperated.

Because I was really in despair now! The madman was telling me that I was in 365 AD!
I wanted to scream, I would have shot him! I did not understand anything anymore, a black night of despair had engulfed me.I put my head down hiding my face in my hands, so there was no end to this nightmare? It was not possible! I was an Italian aviator in combat mission in the year of Our Lord 1941, and I was not crazy! I wasn’t crazy! What was happening to me, where was I? I was lost and I did not know where, the more I tried to understand, the more I found myself wrapped up in the nightmare! I no longer dared open my eyes, I was afraid of what was around me, I thought that perhaps, for the first time in my life, my nerves were giving way completely, I could not control my emotions and my mind was paralyzed.
It was then that I felt the heavy hand of Octavius ​​on my shoulders, I felt his warm voice saying to me:

"Ottavio, courage son! I like you, you're a good guy. I know everything seems absurd for you now, the problem is that we are in a particular place, that is imprisoning us, you and me! It's like a timeless space, but don’t worry Ottavio, you're not crazy, you can still get out, my boys and me, we are here to save you and your friens. By all the Gods! I swear that I will bring you out of here! But we have to hurry, this place captures who stays here too long. "

That gesture, and his voice had calmed down me a little, although I did not understand what Octavius was talking about. He would save us, so he had said.

"Tomorrow," he continued, "We will take you out of this desert, near here, to no more than a day by away, there is a Guptas’ camp...."

The Guptas? Oh my God! Now, who were the Guptas? I had studied the history, if he belonged to the Late Roman Empire’s Age, the Gupta were....., I was trying to remember .... too much mathematics and physics at the University, my classical studies had suffered.... Ah! That's it! The Guptas were an Indian dynasty at that time, now remembered! Octavius ​​was referring to the Indians probably, but why the Indians were here in the Desert of Nefud? Oh God, of course! The British colonial troops! Octavius, probably was speaking of an English military base held by Indians! After all, finally I caught a glimpse of a sense in those words ....

"There we’ll lead you," Octavius continued, “so you will be saved!"

It meant imprisonment guaranteed! But better the prison than the timeless nightmare I dared not even conceive. Of course, the prison was a very bad fate for us, years prisoners who knows where, if the war did not end immediately, and ultimately a successful rapid conclusion seemed less and less likely.
I raised my head and I returned him the flask of Cognac, the old Umbrian soldier was about to drink his sip, but he stopped, his dark eyes lingered on me investigating the puzzled expression on my face, perhaps expecting that I would be happier, in fact after a brief hesitation he asked me:

"Are you four, all soldiers and did all you come from Italy on that damn machine, where we found you?"

He was quick to understand, probably he was sensing more than his words expressed, I answered:

"Yes, we are soldiers, and we all come from Italy, and in the year 2693 Ab Urbem Condita, we are fighting on that flying machine, because there’s a great war in Europe, and Italy is fighting alongside Germany against the British , and the Guptas are Indian troops fighting with the British, so they are our enemies, I am the Leutenant Ottavio Costaguta, and the names of my comrades are Massimo, Guido and Antonio…"

Told in that way our contemporary history, made me almost laugh, but it was true, this was Europe of the year 2693 Ab Urbem Condita! Once again at war, once again already covered of deads.
Octavius ​​interrupted me:

"By all the gods! I don’t want to know anything else, Britons and Guptas allied fighting against Italians and Germans, it was better in our times! I've seen far too many wars, my boy. So you're some kind of officer? "

"Yes," I replied "A kind of tribune, so, perhaps, you would consider my position in the army."

"Ah! a Tribune! All we needed was having to save a damn Tribune!" said spitting on the ground.

Our conversation was so absurd, that now my mind was smiling, probably it was the fault of my British ancestors, but I found almost amusing the idea of ​​being delivered to to the British, by a Ducenarius of Roman army of the year 365 AD! But sadly passing from the image of Albentaemelia of the IV century AD to the idea of a concentration camp in India in 1941, was almost disgusting one! And very hard to digest, it seemed that we only had two days of freedom and then to jail! It would have been painful returning to my companions. I exclaimed, almost amused.

"Dear Octavius ​​you’ve to save, two Tribuni, one Legatus called Massimo, and Antonio, the Ducenarius!"

The Umbrian asked sharply:

"Then, after we have been delivered you to them, will the Indians make you prisoners?"

"Yes, they will make us prisoners, and they’ll send us in some prison camp in India or somewhere, because this is their duty."

Then Octavius spat on the ground again, took a sip from the flask, and with gloomy voice said:

"I'm so sorry Tribune, I made many unpleasant things in my life, but this thing of delivering some Italics to the Guptas, this thing…..I just don’t like it!"

I do not know why, but I liked the man and his face carved in stone, it will be because he reminded me of my home, perhaps it was the mystery that surrounded the old soldier, lost somehow in those abandoned lands, perhaps united us also the feeling that both, him and me, were lost in the nothing, but I was starting to feel a deep affection for the old Umbrian rock.
A bizarre idea began to take shape in my head, in the end we had two heavy machine guns Breda SAFAT MC 12.7 mm. They could grind a wing of a Spitfire, and then we had two 7.7 mm Breda, we had a lot of ammunition,we were four, with a good placement we could disintegrate in a few seconds the barracks, now it seemed to me to hear the voice of Antonio: 'Prisoners? With all these guns? Are you kidding me? Do you know how many Indians I’ll send to their Hell with this toy before giving up?....' Yes, indeed there were weapons .... I asked, rather insinuating, because I tried to hide my bloody projects:

"How is this base of the Indians? How many are there? "

Octavius, looking at me askance, answered immediately:

"Do not even think about it!"

"No, I was just wondering ..."

"Ottavio, you are only four, and it's pitiful even watching at you! You are badly reduced and they are more than double of your number as far as I know. They are guarding at the bins of iron and their field is surrounded by thorny wire. There is a paved trail near the Guptas camp, and sometimes a flying machine, much smaller than your machine, lands on it. They are well fed and they have many weapons that kill at a distance. Thinking about an attack in four, is a stupid and suicidal idea! Believe me, I understand a little about war! "

Now my attention was total! Iron bins and landing trail for planes? But it was a dream! It was exactly what we needed: Fuel for planes! And maybe even tools and spare parts to repair the Savoia Marchetti, the news completely changed the situation: For the first time I saw a glimmer of hope on the horizon, and for sure I would not escape, it was better to die trying to steal a little fuel to the British, rather than ending up rotting in a concentration camp. It was also a duty for us, in the end we were at war....
The voice Octavius ​​stopped abruptly my projects of war, he was gazing seriously at me:

"I do not like the expression on your face young Tribune! I explained you that you cannot attack the base, stop thinking about it! And try to accept your fate. "

I replied him, undaunted: "The bins you are talking about are containing the flammable liquid we need to fly our vehicle, dear Ducenarius! My comrades and me, we are fighting the war seriously, there, in the desert close to the machine, we buried one of ours, we will not surrender without trying something. I'm sorry Ducenarius, but you know the war! We will try to attack the Indian camp and we will take the fuel we need and maybe even the tools to repair the plane. I Don’t ask you nothing but only to show us the direction to the Indian camp."

Now Ocatvius was really angry! He threw the spit on the brazier stood up and walked a few steps cursing in the darkness, then he turned abruptly, he walked towards me and gazing at me, still cursing said:

"In the name of Mithras Invincible! For all the damn Gods of Olympus! But How have I to explain you that you'd be butchered like idiots, you and your fire-spitting weapons? Do you think I haven’t seen the perforated steel pipe protruding from your damned flying machine? Do you think I don’t understand what you want to do young Tribune? Do you think I don’t understand your stupid plan? You set two men on the dunes around the camp to give cover fire, and the other two advancing to the perimeter try to enter, killing all the Indians exiting from the barraks to fire at you! Compliments! Good plan! A total failure and a true idiocy! How do you think I carved these scars and these wrinkles on my face, boy? The war! The war and the pain for those who I saw dying, the war that when you learn what it is, you cannot forget it! And Death! The damn death that takes away your comrades, friends, loved ones, she takes away everything you own of most dear in the world! Do you know how many silly boys I buried in my life? Can you imagine how many heroes I saw dying like fools? No Ottavio! I told you that you cannot do this madness! It is enough!"

I did not answer, I was there, sitting motionless, gazing at him obstinately in that moment I would have also embraced him, I felt that I'd never met a man and a friend like that old soldier, a rock that had been able to withstand time and death itself, a veteran of innumerable battles, who now was trying to convince me not to get me killed, but unfortunately that was the role that fate had assigned me, there was a war, and I had to fight.

He turned back into the darkness, a silence black and gloomy more than the night enveloping us, had fallen between us, I was saddened, but I had to think to my comrades and my duty, I did not understand in what time and place I was and who was the person with whom I spoke, but I could guess his whole humanity, that was real and intense, as the old face staring at the dark, I did not know what absurd physical law was broken or jammed and what had created the time prison into which he and I were, which had monstrous force had annulled the inconceivable abyss of time separating us, I did not know anything anymore, I was not sure about anything, but I knew that my comrades and me now had a chance and I knew I had to try to exploit it at all costs.
I got up walking slowly towards the point of the camp from which I had came, I thought that by now there was not much to say, when I heard the voice of the Ducenarius behind me:

"Wait, I'm here to save you and bring you out alive from this place, if I do nothing, allowing you to do what you want, I know with certainty that you will get killed, here in Nefud, and this goes against the purpose for which I’ve came here with my men! Then your damn blackmail did work, we'll led you to the camp of the Guptas, but not your friends, just you and us, the Fifth! We will do it in my way, and won't die no one, not even among the Guptas. We're going there with my men, we will evaluate the situation and maybe you will have that liquid for which you're ready to die, I used the word ‘Maybe’ because I will decide whether and how the action will take place not you!
Now you, my boy, you can accept these terms or reject them, but if you reject, you have to understand that you and your friends will never leave this cursed Desert."

His voice was hard and the sense of menace in his words was made very concrete by his face, it was like a metal mask, lit only by the faint glow of the embers, Ottavius ​​now inspired fear.
We stood there, gazing straight in the eye at each other for a time that seemed endless, my mind was thinking about his words and his offer, in the universe of confusion that our talk had built, I saw his hard face and superimposed the faces of my friends, I was feeling the abyss of time separating me from the man who was in front of me and his actual physical disturbing presence, I was trying to assess his offers and to figure out if the decision I had to take was the right one for us, I was thinking, or rather my mind was struggling frantically in an endless maze where choices, fate, time and space, were not able to maintain a stable form.
In the end, I strained my hand toward him, more for an instinct than for a calculation, and solemnly pronounced my answer:

"I accept your offer and I thank you Ducenarius, also on behalf of my comrades. I hope that fate will be kind to our hopes."

Octavius ​​stood still for a moment gazing at me intently, it seemed he was trying to penetrate my mind through my eyes, I didn’t have any fear, I haven’t hidden secrets or intentions, in that moment I felt only the responsibility of the decision I had taken. Suddenly his eyes and his face returned to animate the whole of humanity that I had found during our talk, the conversation more absurd, fascinating and intense of my life. Then he gave me a mighty pat on the back and at the same time with his right hand grabbed my arm, and smiling at me, he said:

"Well Ottavio, we agree, now come back to your comrades and try to sleep a few hours, tomorrow it will be a long hard day. We will arrive at dawn be ready but remember: no weapons, what you need is here with us. Vale Tribunus! "

"Vale Octavius, at ​​morrow!"

I was heading towards the edge of the field, with the mind full of a multitude of thoughts, when I heard the voice of Octavius ​​behind me, and I turned toward him.

"Ah guy, only a last thing: Remember that my men and I will talk with you alone, none of us will be in touch with your mates, never and for any reason!"

I raised my arm in greeting, then I turned and I started again my walk back to the plane.
The words of the Ducenarius of the Legio Quinta Macedonica accompanied my steps towards the small light of the fire of my comrades, I wished that the distance that separated me from the plane was much longer, I felt I had too little time to try to reorder my thoughts and formulate a credible explanation to offer to my friends, while in the cold and still air of the night, the stars in the sky of the Nefud were mute and motionless witnesses of the storm that was upsetting my mind.

*******

"THE NOWHERE LEGION" AAR by SeniorBatavianHorse. Now it's on paper and it's a 'Must'!

.

[SeniorBatavianHorse]

Well, Diocle, you have brought tears to my eyes as I read this. Before me stood an old friend who walked alive out of the Nefud and here I find him again trapped in that hell on earth. You brought tears of joy and regret also that I found him forlorn from Rome . . .

You can't imagine what it is like to read of a character one has written but now in the words of another. It seems to lend a reality to their fate; their existence, even. A truth beyond my own poor imaginings. Octavio stands now in the words of two writers - he has escaped my pen and lives in a wider realm now and for that I thank you!

And what a beautiful and tense update - you capture wonderfully the mind of a man seduced between two worlds and now hovering on the cusp of both. Not only do you manage to capture the wonder and awe of meeting a living Roman from the Antique period but you also seed within that scene the tension of a battle to come with Sepoy troops - the 'Guptas'! Fantastic. Truly this is a worthy continuation of 'The Nowhere Legion' and deserves a wider audience. You must publish this. I insist!

But I fear all will not end well with our worthy aviators in the Nefud . . .

[Diocle]

Thanks for your wonderful words SBH!
Yes, also I sometime remain trapped by some tears writing my pages, probably it is the cursed Nefud and the fate of the men I met firstly as a reader and now as writer, that create disturbing emotions in the story, which is using my pen to reach the readers; the story of the Nowhere Legion worked like the this Desertic time-prison for me, so I'm feeling trapped with my (YOUR) characters, in this enchanted lands. Thanks again Clarissimus!

You can read in the map of the future, SBH!
The fate of the aviators of the Savoia Marchetti 79S Torpedo Bomber, 278-2, will be worth a whole life of sorrow and regret for our Ottavio, but their fate is also the true motivation behind these pages, so you have only to wait, preparing your favoured type of tea, some paper handkerchief for tears (a whole pack would be the best solution!) and gathering all the patience you can muster, to survive to my typos and grammar!

But not all the pains are useless, Ottavio will leave his youth there in the cursed Desert of Nefud, but frienship and affection and loyalty are sentiments able to withstand the abyss of time and space, defeating even Death.

[Rex Anglorvm]

I've just finished reading this great update, I'm not sure how the men of the fifth have survived - but I hope it will be explained! Something mystical and fantastic as a reasoning I hope

This was a joy to read Diocle, I could just imagine the aviator struggling to cope with the absurdity of it all, the chance to talk to a man of the legions, or the chance he had lost his mind - Poor Ottavio

Rep+

[Luxchamp]

i have never read anything quite like it (apart from the book 'the jesus movie' but that sucked), and though i'm not really a fan of anachronistic histories, you have sparked my interest for the turn of events i have been able to witness since their crash!

as a reward, and a token of my appreciation, i bid thee to accept this small gift:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

yes, it's been found in Oescus

[SeniorBatavianHorse]

Holy crap - what does it say?

[Diocle]

IMP.VESPASIANVS.CAESAR.AVG.TRIB(VNICIA).
POTESTAS . COS II (consul for the second two time)
CAVSA.RE.QVI.MILITAVERVNT.IN.LEGIO.II.
ADIVTRICE.PIA.FIDELE.QVI.BELLO.IN.
VITELLIS (? it's only an hypothesys!).FACTI.ANTE.EMERITA.
STIPENDIA.EXAVTORATIS.SVNT.ET.DIMISSI.
HONESTA.MISSIONE.QVORVM.
NOMINA.SVBSCRPTA.SVNT.IPSIS.
LIBERIS.POST(I?)ERISQVE.FORVM.
CIVITATEM.DEDIT.CONVBIVM.
CVM.VXORIBVS.QVAS.IVNC(TIS).HABVISSENT.CVM.EST.CIVITAS.DATA.AVT.
SI.QVI.CAELIBENS.ESSENT.CVM.IS.
QVI.POSIT.DVXISSENT

I think here we have the veterans of the Legion II Adiutrx Pia Fidelis, under the rule of Vespasianus Augustus Caesar, probably its a public military leave act. ...second part isn't clear.

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

Diocle, an awe-inspiring update it must be said. I am intrigued as too what these man will face now, for surely they have faced nearly all of it?

+rep

[Diocle]

I'm not sure how the men of the fifth have survived - but I hope it will be explained! Something mystical and fantastic as a reasoning I hope

Thanks Rex! I will explain all, well, not I, of course, Ottavio himself will give his personal explaination of the temporal paradox and Octavius and.....also....another Character....will give His very important explaination, but I cannot tell you His Name.....for now.........

i have never read anything quite like it

Thanks Lux, for the magnificent gift! I've found the words and it seems that the men of the II Adiutrix were set with their families in Oescus at the times of Vespasianus!!!
Lux, do you know? also I could not tell you what kind of story is this....SF? Fantasy? Horror? Alternate History? A Fanzine of the Nowhere Legion? A comic? I don't know...but perhaps, in the end of the story, someone will suggest an answer....

I am intrigued as too what these man will face now, for surely they have faced nearly all of it?

Sadly Ottavio and his comrades have faced only a small part of their future.....terrible events in the Future, and magnificent Mysteries are awaiting for them........!
Thanks My Lord for your words and your interest!


@SBH: I don't tell nothing to SBH, because I already answered, let me say again, Clarissimus, that the story of Octavius and the men of the V, is a wonderful gift for the readers, and do you see what can your work instigate among the more mental disturbed readers?

[BroskiDerpman]

EDIT

I get it now!

[Diocle]

Broski asked for a summary!
Now, Broski, you are asking for something quite problematic, at this stage of the story,......but I'll try to give you a brief summary of 'The House' as you asked:

The prof Ottavio Costaguta died in his villa on the Ligurian mountains on the French-Italian border, he passed his life studying the Nefud Desert and the Late Roman Empire, in particular the history of the Legio V Macedonica.

The Architect Carlo C. have to restore the old House of prof Costaguta, a strang old Archeologist now died, but he hate the idea, speaking with the doughter of prof Ottavio, the architect recieve a key, then he discover that the key opens a hiding place in which there is the diary of Ottavio Costaguta, written during the year 1940-1, Ottavio was a Lieutenant of Vessel of the Italian Royal Navy and he was the navigation officer on the Torpedo bombers Savoia Marchetti SM 79, in the diary there is the answer to all the questions about the mysterious figure of the old Archeologist and Cartographer Ottavio Costaguta.


If you need more, read the work please, if not.....I hope my summary has been interesting, anyway the work actually is a personal tribute to the work of SBH, called 'The Nowhere Legion' and my personal Confession in the IBFD Forums, in form of Novel, so we could say the work has its own indipendent mysterious life......

Borski you got it now, but now I wrote this post! Two alternatives:

1- You'll find an angry Space Marine out of your door ready to use on your head his chainaxe!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

2- You will get only some small incident during the next days,............... because I put a little lead roll, with some small curses against you, .................in the base of the Temple of Janus.

[Diocle]

I tried......but....I haven't been able to post the update with the second part of the Chapter titled 'Legion', for this weekend!

Sorry! It will be for the next week!.

Again sorry, dear readers if I even betray my few readers, what will remain of me?....Only a desperate shadow, floating in the darkness of most forgotten corners of these forums.......

Sad words to close a sad post....


........but the hope is still alive!

[Rex Anglorvm]

I'm sure we shall all wait patiently for an update. After all its bound to be superb

[SeniorBatavianHorse]

Agreed, too! These updates are like fine wine to be savoured and not rushed. I want to read the end but not read the end for it will be over . . .

[Scottish King]

Once again I'm late to the party but what an amazing update! I actually felt like I was talking to Octavius myself. Can't wait for the next update.

[Shankbot de Bodemloze]

The Memoirs, The Life

Volume 1: Diocle I - The Troubles and The Masses

He curses silently as his parchment remained empty, his quill unable to make sweet love to the scrolls, the magical words were not coming alive tonight! With the anger of Satan inside him all that was left was too write a quick note explaining his predicament. They may not understand, but they will have too...

* * *

The crowds of people bustled about in the morning, craning their necks to get a view to the next update of the infamous story they had come to love. To the people of Paris is was an escape from everyday life, and the groan that went up from the crows when they saw the note:

"My people, it is my utmost regret that this week's edition shall be postponed"

However four wise man stood at the back of the crowd, and when they spoke the crowd listened, "Good people, rejoice - for this is a tale we all love, and like anything we love it is that much sweeter the longer we wait. Be patient, and good things will come. Be patient, and it'll be ever so much joyous when we read it once more." The people heard this, and they were content - for they knew these four men spoke the truth.

So from then a different person each day would come up and place a rose by the stand, signalling their patience and joy in waiting for the next instalment of this heroic tale...

Chapter 19: Writing
Book 1: Life and Living
Author's notes: Whoever wrote this passage remains a mystery, but eye witness accounts from the time act as evidence to the above.

[Diocle]

I fell in love with Shankbot the Bodemloze! I almost feel a sexual attraction for him!

I want to kiss you MyLord, at least let me kiss one of your beautiful hands please!