Northern Italy, 70 BC
The Vinalia Rustica had been and gone and still no opportunity had arisen for Tarquinius to get away from the latifundium and visit Olenus. Normally he enjoyed the annual festival celebrating the harvest, a riotous affair that lasted several days. This year had been different in more ways than one. Large amounts of wine and food had been consumed but Caelius had ensured celebrations did not get out of hand. Just as Dexter had predicted, there had been no meat for the workers. The nobleman never wasted a single sestertius if he could avoid it. And Tarquinius was growing impatient. He desperately needed to talk to the haruspex about his vision, which had now recurred a number of times. But he dared not leave without permission because the vilicus knew about his wish to climb the mountain. Dexter's speciality lay in punishing the workers who had disobeyed Caelius' rules. It was not uncommon for men to die of the injuries he inflicted.
About two weeks after talking to the foreman, the young Etruscan was summoned to Caelius' stone-flagged office early one morning. Tarquinius was delighted. Events were beginning to move again. It was still intimidating to be in the hard-faced Roman's presence. Tarquinius strongly disliked the estate 's owner — he could not have explained why — and his dream had only strengthened this feeling.
Studying a parchment on his desk, Caelius ignored him for some time. Tarquinius waited, staring curiously at mementoes throughout the large, square room. Greek statues of the gods sat either side of a low altar. A bust of a man with a beaked nose and piercing gaze sat in an alcove, displayed so everyone who entered could see it. Shields and swords of different types hung from nails, trophies from Caelius' time in the army. The weapons, evidence of a world outside the latifundium, sparked Tarquinius' imagination. He had learned much from Olenus, but most of it was theory. These objects were real.
The noble looked up at last. He had not noticed Tarquinius' interest. 'Too many animals have been killed recently,' he said, tapping a fingernail against his teeth. 'I'm giving you three days. I want half a dozen wolf pelts on the wall by then.'
'Three days?' Tarquinius was stunned by the timing. 'Six wolves?'
Why now? He had told Caelius about the losses a month earlier.
'Correct.' Caelius' tone was icy. 'Unless someone else could do it better? Plenty of men would jump at the chance to avoid harvest work.'
'I can do it, Master,' Tarquinius said hurriedly. It would give him the chance to get meat for Dexter.
Caelius waved a hand in dismissal.
Tarquinius had reached the door when the redhead spoke again.
'Return late and I'll have you crucified.'
'Master?' Shocked, he stared at Caelius blankly. The threat sounded genuine.
'You heard me,' the redhead replied. His eyes were dark slits.
Tarquinius bobbed his head and closed the door behind him. Alarmed by the cryptic remark, he went to the family's room and gathered up a few belongings, together with a bow and quiver. The thought of time with Olenus soon lifted his spirits. Grinning broadly, he kissed his mother goodbye and left the estate buildings behind.
The small groves on slopes above the villa were full of slaves bringing in the olive harvest. The original trees had been brought from Greece hundreds of years before. Green olives and their valuable oil provided a huge part of Rome's wealth. Tarquinius wondered again why Caelius had not planted more of them to help with his financial problems.
'Don't forget our deal,' the vilicus yelled when he saw Tarquinius. 'Otherwise I'll put you to work in the mill.' Grinding flour was even more backbreaking than cutting wheat, and a common punishment. 'It's good you're going up there,' Dexter added ominously.
'What do you mean?'
'Crassus has an interest in the old man. Gods alone know why.'
Tarquinius opened his mouth to ask more, but the foreman had already turned away, shouting orders.
What interest could Marcus Licinius Crassus have in Olenus?
The immensely wealthy noble had defeated Spartacus the year before, ending the slave rebellion which had almost brought Rome to its knees. It was now common knowledge that the victory had been cleverly claimed by Pompey Magnus, his main rival. The lie had won him a full triumph from the Senate while Crassus had to be satisfied with a mere parade on foot. For months afterwards, the enraged Crassus had continually failed to regain the political advantage.
But recently he had skilfully manoeuvred to become joint consul with Pompey, and in an initial show of unity, the pair had restored the tribunate, which had been abolished by Sulla. Only plebeians could serve in these posts. With their rights to veto bills in the Senate and to convene public assemblies to pass laws of their own, the tribunes were immensely popular with the Roman public. The reform had been a clever move and Crassus had immediately used his new-found recognition to stir up resentment against Pompey in the Senate. At only thirty-six, his co-consul was legally too young to serve in the post. In addition, he had never even served as a senator. Pompey had quickly heard about Crassus' tactics and soon the pair were publicly disagreeing with each other. Instead of working together as they were supposed to, their rivalry had become more bitter than ever.
Tarquinius shivered.
There could be only one reason for Crassus' interest. The bronze liver.
Tarquin's sword. Caelius was planning to sell the sacred items to a man who wanted — needed — signs of divine approval.
He walked on, mind racing. Time was suddenly of the essence.
'Skiving again?' His leg manacles still in place, Maurus looked at Tarquinius sourly from his position halfway up a tree. In one hand the brown-skinned slave held a small, sharp knife to cut olives from the branches; he gripped the trunk with his other. A wicker basket hung from his back.
'The master know about this?'
'He's sent me to kill some wolves. Half a dozen in three days. Want to help?'
Maurus' face paled at the idea of physical danger.
Tarquinius mimed pulling back his bowstring and loosing an arrow. 'Keep picking, then.'
The gnarled trunks and busy workers were soon left behind as he climbed above the tree line to see the surrounding countryside that he knew and loved so well. Lake Vadimon sparkled in the sunlight and he drank in the view, momentarily putting aside his worries at Caelius' and Dexter's comments.
The powerful aroma of wild herbs filled Tarquinius' nostrils and he breathed deeply. Breaking off a small branch of rosemary from the nearest bush, he stuffed it into his pack to use later. The young man kept his eyes peeled for wolves, though it was unlikely he would see any in daytime. The predators lived in woods much higher on the mountain and came down to hunt only at dusk or dawn. He found traces of their passage here and there, in the form of spoor. There was even the carcass of an adult sheep near the track, bones picked clean of flesh by the birds. Only a jackal remained, sucking the marrow from a cracked femur. It darted away before he could string his bow.
Tarquinius worked his way to Olenus' hut, continuously scanning the sky and slopes for unusual signs. The first thing the old man would ask was what there had been to see on the climb. He counted eight buzzards hanging on thermals that swirled over the peak. Pleased there weren't twelve and that the clouds appeared innocuous in shape and number, Tarquinius clambered sure-footedly up the light scree covering the mountainside.
Spotting Olenus' tiny dwelling, his pace quickened. Despite the altitude, the temperature had been rising and he was looking forward to a rest. The makeshift hut where his mentor lived was built into the edge of a clearing, with commanding views south to the lake and beyond. It was one of Tarquinius' favourite places, full of good memories.
'Finally you grace me with your presence.'
He spun round to find Olenus standing on the track behind.
'How did you get there?' Tarquinius was so relieved to find the haruspex alive that he nearly hugged him.
Olenus smiled and adjusted his leather hat. 'I have my ways. Good to see you, boy. Notice anything on the way up?'
'Nothing much. A jackal. Eight buzzards.' Tarquinius made an apologetic gesture. 'I'd have come before, but the harvest took an age to bring in.'
'No matter. You are here now.' Olenus moved past smoothly. 'We have much to talk about and time is short.'
'I can't stay long.' Tarquinius tapped the bow hanging from his left shoulder. 'I've only got three days to hunt six wolves.'
'Just as well I have killed some then, eh?'
Olenus pointed at the drying racks outside the hut. Five distinctive grey pelts were stretched across their timbers.
'One wolf in three days? That'll be easy,' grinned Tarquinius. 'What's going on? You normally leave the hunting to me.'
The haruspex shrugged. 'A man gets bored talking to sheep all day.'
'You knew how many Caelius would demand?'
Olenus beckoned to him. 'Come and rest in the shade. You must be thirsty after the climb.'
Delighted by the revelation, Tarquinius followed Olenus to a log under the trees. The pair took their ease in silence, contemplating the view. The sun beat down, creating a haze that would eventually obscure the panorama below. Tarquinius drank and passed the leather water carrier to the haruspex.
'Any vivid dreams recently?'
Tarquinius half choked on the liquid in his mouth. 'What?'
'You heard.'
'I had one about you. In a cave. Maybe the one where the liver is kept.' He wrinkled his nose at the smell from the pelts. 'So I've seen it at last!'
'What else?'
'Nothing.' Tarquinius stared down at the impossible brightness of the lake.
'You make a terrible liar, boy.' Olenus chuckled. 'Scared to tell me that I will die soon?'
'I didn't see that.' A shiver ran down Tarquinius' spine at the haruspex' ability to read his mind. 'But Caelius and some soldiers were nearing the cave. It looked like they meant business.'
'He has sold knowledge of my presence to someone in Rome.'
'Crassus!' The name escaped Tarquinius' lips before he could stop it.
Olenus was unsurprised. 'He 's got enough money to run the latifundium for a year.' His gaze was piercing. 'Not bad for an old man, eh?'
Tarquinius struggled briefly with the concept. 'I thought he wanted the liver.'
'The bronze is of huge importance. Although it is Etruscan, the Romans would revere it highly,' agreed Olenus. 'With it, Crassus can use pet augurs to predict what he likes.' His contempt was obvious. 'And I am sure an aspiring general would love Tarquin's sword. Anything to become more popular than Pompey.'
'Why kill you?'
'Cleans everything up. After all, I'm an Etruscan haruspex,' Olenus cackled. 'And Romans don't like me. Too much of a reminder of the past.'
'How does he know about the artefacts?'
'Caelius suspects, but isn't sure.'
'So why hasn't he tortured you before now?'
'He was too scared. I have always made sure the slaves on the estate knew my predictions over the years. Crop failure, floods, disease. Caelius would have heard them too.'
Tarquinius nodded, remembering stories from his childhood about the haruspex who knew where lightning would strike, which cows would prove barren.
'But Caelius' financial worries have conquered his fear. He has sent you to make sure I am still here when the soldiers arrive.' Olenus twisted the lituus between withered hands, the golden bull's head on its top rotating gently. 'Doesn't leave much time to complete your studies.'
'No! You must flee,' Tarquinius said urgently. 'I'll come too. It'd be at least three days before we are missed. Caelius will never find us!'
'I cannot outrun destiny.' His voice was calm. 'It was so obvious on the liver in your dream. Those soldiers will kill me.'
'When?'
'Four days.'
Tarquinius' heart pounded in his chest. 'I'll finish Caelius myself,' he threatened.
'The legionaries will still come from Rome.'
'Then I'll stay here and fight them.'
'And die needlessly. You have many years of life and a great journey to make, Arun.'
It was pointless arguing. Tarquinius had never changed the old man's mind about anything. 'What journey?' he asked. 'You never mentioned that before.'
Olenus got up, wincing as his back straightened. 'Let us go to the cave.
Take your bow and pack. You can pick up those pelts and kill the last wolf on the way home.' He walked over and grabbed the lamb tied up by the hut.
The animal bleated plaintively as the rope was fastened around both its back legs and it was dangled over Olenus' shoulder.
Tarquinius followed the haruspex along the same track they had been on a few weeks before. They climbed in silence, until only the scrubby grass beloved by sheep and goats remained to cover the stony ground. The weather was much calmer than usual on the mountain and a few clouds sat unmoving overhead.
An eagle appeared over the crest of the ridge above, bringing a smile to Tarquinius' face. It was always a good omen to see the most regal of birds.
They were still picking their way up the steep slopes by early afternoon. A cool breeze kept temperatures bearable, but in the fields far below it would be a different matter.
Olenus came to a halt, a fine covering of sweat on his wrinkled forehead.
'You're in good shape, old man.' Glad of the rest, Tarquinius took a pull from his water bag.
'Sixty years living on this mountain.' Olenus scanned the harsh environment of rocks and the occasional bush which had survived the extremes of weather. It was desolate but beautiful. The sky had emptied of clouds, the only sign of life the bird of prey drifting on thermals. 'It's been a good place to live and it will be a good place to die.'
'Please stop talking like that!'
'Better get used to it, Arun. Haruspices have lived and died here since time immemorial.'
Tarquinius quickly changed the subject. 'Where is this cave?'
'Up there.' Olenus waved his lituus at the winding path. 'Another hundred paces.'
Teacher and pupil walked the last few steps to the entrance, hidden until they had virtually fallen into it. The narrow opening was barely wide enough for two men to stand abreast.
The young Etruscan gaped. He must have been past the aperture countless times searching for sheep, but nobody would ever find it unless they knew where to look. Then he smiled. The long years of waiting were nearly over.
'Mind your head.' The haruspex paused, muttering a prayer. 'The ceiling is quite low.'
Tarquinius followed Olenus, squinting as his eyes adjusted from the light outside. It was the cave in the dream, the interior just as plain as he remembered. The only evidence of human presence was a small ring fireplace in the centre of the floor.
Olenus put down the lamb, tying the rope round a large rock. He paced deeper inside, studying the wall. About thirty paces from the entrance, he stopped. With a grunt of effort, the old man reached up into a crevice with both hands, searching.
Tarquinius watched with fascination as the soothsayer pulled out a heavy oblong object wrapped in cloth. Olenus brushed off a thick layer of dust and turned to him.
'Still here!'
'The sacred liver?'
'The first one ever made by a haruspex,' replied Olenus solemnly. 'Bring the lamb.'
He led the way outside, stopping by a slab of black basalt that Tarquinius had noticed on the way in. Olenus set down the lituus and pulled a long dagger from his belt, laying it on the edge of the flat rock.
'That is just like the altar I saw in my dream!'
'There is another one, deep inside the cave.' Olenus unwrapped the bronze liver, placing it reverently beside the knife. 'But today's divination must be performed in sunlight.'
Tarquinius peered at the smooth lump of metal, coloured green with age. It was shaped exactly like the purple organ he had seen cut from butchered cattle and sheep. Bulging more on the right, the bronze had two triangular pieces protruding from its inner aspect, like different lobes of a real liver. The uppermost surface was covered in lines, dividing it into multiple areas. Spidery, cryptic symbols had been etched on each part. Having studied diagrams of the liver over and over again, Tarquinius found he could understand the inscribed words.
'It names the gods and stellar constellations!'
'All that time studying wasn't in vain, then.' Olenus took the rope from him. 'You read the whole Disciplina Etrusca twice, so you should know most of what I'm going to do.'
Tarquinius had spent countless hours spent poring over cracked parchments that Olenus kept in his hut. He had digested dozens of volumes, constantly encouraged by the old man leaning over him, indicating relevant paragraphs with long yellow fingernails. There had been three sets of books — the first, the Libri Haruspicini, was dedicated to divination from animal organs; the second, the Libri Fulgurates, dealt with interpretation of thunder and lightning. The last, the Libri Rituales, concerned Etruscan rituals and consecrations for cities, temples and armies.
'Gently, little one,' Olenus whispered.
The lamb pulled the rope taut, an alarmed look in its dark brown eyes.
Speaking reassuringly, the haruspex placed the animal on the centre of the basalt. 'We thank you for your life, which will help us understand the future.'
Tarquinius moved closer. He had seen Olenus perform sacrifices before, but not for some months. The haruspex had never used the bronze liver alongside a fresh offering. And although Tarquinius had tried divining many times after he had been hunting, they had only been practice runs, predicting things like weather and harvest yields.
'It is time.' Olenus picked up the dagger. 'Observe how a fresh liver may be read. Hold him properly.'
Tarquinius gripped the lamb's head and extended the neck towards Olenus. With a swift slash of the blade, the old man cut its throat. Dark red venous blood gushed on to the altar in a thick stream, spattering them in droplets.
'See how it flows to the east?' Olenus cried with glee as the liquid ran away. 'The omens will be auspicious!'
Tarquinius gazed eastward, to the sea. It was from across the water, from Lydia, that the Etruscans had come many centuries ago. According to ritual, the gods most favourably disposed towards humans also dwelt in that direction. Not for the first time, he felt a strong urge to journey to the ancestral homelands of his people.
Olenus laid the dead lamb on its back, exposing the belly. With deft movements, he sliced open skin and muscle from groin to ribcage. Shiny loops of gut spilled out, glistening in the sunlight.
Olenus pointed with the dagger. 'Mark the pattern as large and small intestine emerge to sit on the stone. Both should be a healthy pinkish-grey colour, like these. If they are not, it is likely the reading will be bad when you reach the animal's liver.'
'What else can you see?'
'The wave movement in the intestines is still strong, which is good.'
Tarquinius watched the regular pulses in the small bowel, moving along digested material in a futile attempt to stay alive. 'Anything else?'
The haruspex leaned closer. 'No. When I was a boy, old men used to claim they could interpret much from the bowel and the four stomachs. They were charlatans.'
Olenus reached inside the abdomen with both hands, using his knife to free the liver from its position against the diaphragm. A few swift cuts severed the large vessels anchoring it in place. Forearms covered in blood, he withdrew the organ, balancing its rounded surface on his left hand.
'O great Tinia! Give us good omens for the future of this Arun.' He raised his eyes to the heavens, searching for the eagle that had accompanied them earlier.
'What are you doing?' asked Tarquinius.
'Reading your life in the liver, boy,' Olenus cackled. 'What better way to complete your learning?'
Tarquinius held his breath for a long time, unsure. Then, as if compelled, he found himself taking in the words. It had been too many years to hold back now, even when it was his own future being predicted.
'Most of what you can discern is on the inner surface. Mark the dog star, Sirius. This is the large bear, Ursa Major.'
He peered at the points indicated, his book learning beginning to make real sense. The haruspex spoke at length about interpretations to be made from the colour, shape and consistency of the glistening organ. To Tarquinius' astonishment, Olenus brought up many details of his childhood that he could not possibly have known. The old man recounted Tarquinius' whole life, pausing every so often to allow his pupil time to interpret.
'The gall bladder.' He poked a tear-shaped sac protruding from the liver's centre. 'Represents what is hidden. Sometimes it can be read, sometimes not.'
Tarquinius touched the warm bag of fluid. 'Is much visible?' It was the hardest part of the divination to perform and he had never made any sense from the livers he had practised on.
Olenus was silent for a few moments.
Heart racing, Tarquinius studied the haruspex' face. There was something there. He could feel it.
'I see you join the army and travel to Asia Minor. I see many battles.'
'When?'
'Soon.'
Tarquinius knew that the eastern region of Asia Minor had been a hotbed of rebellion and conflict for some time. A generation before, Sulla had soundly defeated Mithridates, the warlike king of Pontus, but his concerns about the uncertain political situation in Rome had made him pull back without delivering the final blow. Mithridates had bided his time, until four years previously when his armies had surged into Pergamum, the Roman province in the area. Lucullus, the general sent by the Senate, had achieved impressive victories since, but the war was still going on.
Amused by the idea of fighting for the Romans, Tarquinius felt a sharp nudge. 'Pay attention!' barked the old man. 'Years of travelling, learning. But eventually Rome draws you back. A desire for revenge.'
'On whom?'
'A fight.' Olenus seemed to be in a trance. 'Someone of high rank is killed.'
'By me?' Tarquinius asked suspiciously. 'Why?'
The answer came to him.
'A voyage to Lydia by ship. There two gladiators become your friends. Both brave men. You will become a teacher, like me.'
The dagger tip swept from gall bladder to other points on the purple organ. The haruspex began muttering rapidly. Tarquinius found he could only pick out occasional words. He gazed at the liver, delighted that he could also see what Olenus was reading.
'A huge battle, which the Romans lose. Slavery. A long march into the east. The Lion of Macedon's path.'
Tarquinius smiled. Some said the Rasenna — the name the Etruscans called themselves — had come from further afield than Lydia. Perhaps he would learn something from the travels of Alexander.
'Margiana. A journey by river, then another by sea.' Olenus' expression grew troubled. 'Egypt? The mother of terror?'
'What is it?' Tarquinius tried to see what had alarmed his mentor.
'Nothing! I saw nothing.' The old man threw the lamb's liver down, taking a few steps backwards. 'I must be mistaken.'
Tarquinius stepped closer. The gall bladder had begun to leak a thin, greenish fluid onto the stone. Concentrating hard, he still found it difficult to interpret. Then his vision cleared. 'Egypt! The city of Alexander!'
'It is not.' Sounding angry and scared, Olenus pushed Tarquinius out of the way, turning the liver over so he could no longer see the underside. 'Time to see the sword of Tarquin.'
'Why? What have you seen?'
'Many things, Arun.' Olenus' eyes darkened. 'It is sometimes best not to say.'
'I have a right to know my own fate.' Tarquinius squared his shoulders. 'You saw yours.'
Olenus' face sagged. 'True enough.' He gestured with the blade. 'Look, then.'
Tarquinius held back, considering the options. He had learned how to read the liver thoroughly at last and would have plenty of opportunity to do so in years to come. His mentor had seen a fascinating future. But there had also been something quite unexpected.
Tarquinius had little desire to know everything that would happen to him.
'It will be revealed in time,' he said calmly.
Relieved, Olenus picked up the lituus and pointed back into the cave. 'We must find the sword. You are ready.' He patted Tarquinius affectionately.
Before they entered the dark interior, Olenus produced a handful of rushes, their ends dipped in wax. Using two pieces of flint, he lit a pair of torches. 'Take one.'
Making sure the burning wax did not run down his arm, Tarquinius followed the old man inside. The cave opened out as they went deeper, running straight into the rock for a good three hundred paces. The air was cool but dry.
He jumped as the torchlight revealed richly coloured paintings on the walls.
'This place has been sacred for many centuries.' Olenus pointed out the figure of a haruspex, obvious with his blunt-peaked hat and lituus. 'See how he holds the liver in his left hand and looks at the sky?'
'This must be Tinia.' Tarquinius bowed before an unusually large image, depicting a figure identical to the little terracotta statue kept on a shrine in Olenus' hut. The deity had staring, almond-shaped eyes and a straight nose, framed by tight curls and a short, pointed beard.
'The Romans call him Jupiter.'
Olenus scowled. 'They even took our most important god.'
The soothsayer beckoned Tarquinius deeper into the gloom, past more paintings of ancient rituals and feasts. Musicians played lyres and the auletos, the Etruscan double flute. Graceful dark women in colourful, flowing robes danced with fat, naked men as satyrs leered from nearby rocks. Mighty Etruscan warriors in full armour guarded one scene, and a naked male figure with wings and a lion's head hovered overhead. The intensity in the beast's eyes stirred something deep in him.
'Gods above!' Tarquinius swelled with pride, imagining Etruria in its glory days. 'These are better than anything in Caelius' house!'
'Or most villas in Rome.' The old man came to a halt by the entrance to a side chamber. Raising his torch, Olenus moved a few steps towards a large shape on the floor.
'What is it?'
The haruspex did not answer and Tarquinius dragged his gaze away from the murals. It was a moment before he took in the ornate bronze panels, metal-clad wheels and square fighting platform of an Etruscan battle chariot. He gasped.
'Achilles is receiving his armour from Thetis, his mother.' Olenus pointed at the depiction on the chariot's front section.
Chunks of ivory, amber and semiprecious stones had been carved to colour the scene. The central tongue and twin neckpieces for horses were similarly covered with tiny pictures of the gods. Even the nine-spoked wheels had sacred symbols etched on their sides.
Full of awe, Tarquinius ran his fingers over the wood and bronze, soaking up the details and dislodging a thick layer of dust. 'How old is it?'
'It belonged to Priscus, the last to call himself king of the Etruscans,' replied Olenus solemnly. 'And it was over three centuries ago that he ruled Falerii. They say he led more than a hundred of these into battle.'
The young man shivered with delight, picturing the impressive sight of the king dressed in plates of bronze armour, standing with a drawn bow behind his charioteer. Following in a vast wedge would have been the rest of the chariots and then the massed ranks of infantry.
'The testudo formations could withstand their charges though,' sighed Olenus. 'Simply closed up and weathered the arrow storms.'
Tarquinius nodded sadly, familiar with the story of Falerii's end. Somehow it had endured for more than seventy years after Rome had crushed all of its neighbours. When it did arrive, the fate of Falerii — last of the proud city states — had been decided in a few short hours. The Roman legionaries had massacred the less disciplined Etruscan foot soldiers and cut down many of the charioteers with well-thrown javelins. His army in tatters, the mortally wounded Priscus had fled the field. 'Is he buried in here?' he asked, staring into the corners.
Olenus shook his head. 'The king's final wish was that his body should be burned. The surviving warriors followed his orders, carrying the chariot here, away from the pillage of the city.'
'Wouldn't they have burned it too?'
There was a shrug. 'Perhaps they hoped Etruria would rise again one day.'
Tarquinius scowled. 'None of them was a haruspex then.'
'You cannot fight our people 's destiny, Tarquinius,' said Olenus, patting his arm. 'Our time is nearly over.'
'I know.' He closed his eyes, offering a prayer to the faithful followers who had sweated to bring the magnificent chariot all the way up the mountain, hoping that one day it would reclaim its former glory. It wouldn't. Etruria's glory was gone for ever. He knew that. It was time he accepted it once and for all.
Olenus was watching him, his eyes inscrutable. 'Come.' The old man beckoned, leading him back into the main chamber.
They walked further into the cave, coming to a halt before a low stone altar with a strange picture on the wall above it.
'This is Charon. Demon of death.' Olenus bowed. 'He guards Tarquin's sword. Here it has lain for over three hundred years.'
Tarquinius stared with revulsion and a little fear at the squat blue creature with red hair. It had feathered wings sprouting from its back and a snarling mouth of sharp teeth. Charon held a large hammer poised above his head, ready to crush anyone who approached.
On the flat slab below lay a short straight-edged sword with a gold pommel. Torchlight winked off polished metal. Olenus bowed again before reverently handing the weapon to him.
Tarquinius balanced the intricately wired hilt across one palm, then swung the sword through the air in a gentle arc. 'Perfectly weighted. Handles well too.'
'Of course! It was forged for a king. Priscus was the last to wield it.' The haruspex gestured and Tarquinius quickly handed the gladius back.
Olenus pointed to an enormous ruby embedded in the base of the hilt. 'This is worth a huge fortune. It will attract a lot of attention, so keep it safe. Might come in useful one day.'
Tarquinius' eyes widened at the beautifully cut gemstone, far larger than any he had seen.
'That's enough for one day.' Olenus suddenly seemed drained, the lines deep on his face. 'Let's cook that lamb.'
Tarquinius did not protest. All his expectations for the journey had been exceeded. He had much to think about.
Silently they walked back to the entrance.
Before it got dark, Tarquinius went to find some firewood, and to check for any signs of movement, animal or human. To his relief, all he could find were wolf tracks. Returning with laden arms, he found that Olenus had started a small fire with some twigs. It did not take long to build up the blaze.
The two men sat side by side on a blanket, enjoying the heat and watching their dinner cook. Globules of fat dripped into the flames, flaring as they fell.
As if wanting to lighten the atmosphere, Olenus began talking about a great feasting hall in the city that had once existed below the cave.
'It was a magnificent long room with high couches arranged around dinner tables.' Olenus closed his eyes, leaning towards the fire. 'The tables were marble topped, quite low, with exquisitely worked legs inlaid with plaques of embossed gold. Musicians played while every type of food was served. And both men and women attended the banquets.'
'Really?' Roman nobility usually kept women away from official dinners. Tarquinius turned the lamb slightly on its spit. 'You're sure?'
Olenus nodded, beady eyes fixed on the cooking meat.
'From the paintings?'
'The oldest surviving haruspex told me when I was a boy.' He waved derisively at the guttering rush torch. 'Nothing cheap for our ancestors! They had great bronze tripods with lion's claw feet, topped with silver candelabras.'
Tarquinius' sole experience of luxury was occasionally seeing the simple banqueting hall in Caelius' villa. Its statues and paintings were drab in comparison. His master did not waste money on frivolity.
'The Rasenna were a wealthy people,' Olenus continued. 'In our heyday we ruled the Mediterranean Sea, trading jewellery, bronze figures and amphorae with every civilisation that existed.'
'What did our forebears look like?'
'Wealthy ladies dressed elegantly in fine robes, with beautiful necklaces, arm rings and bracelets of silver and gold. Some wore long hair loose over their shoulders. Others had tresses to the side of the face.'
'Good company for dinner!'
'Not sure they would feel the same way. Here we are — an old haruspex and a young man with only a bow and arrow to his name!' Both laughed at the image of two Etruscans in a cave, celebrating the wealth of a race who had crumbled into dust generations before.
The lamb was very tender, flesh tearing off the bone with ease. As Tarquinius watched the haruspex devour more than half the roasted meat, an image of Dexter came to him. Tarquinius pushed the burly foreman from his mind. He was determined to enjoy the meal, the last days with Olenus.
When they had finished, the two men curled up by the warm embers.
Tarquinius could not shake off his sadness and Olenus seemed content to remain silent.
He watched the sleeping soothsayer for a long time. A faint smile occasionally played on his wrinkled features. Olenus was at peace.
It was many hours before Tarquinius' eyes closed.
When he awoke, Olenus had produced bundles of manuscripts, leaving them in dusty piles on the basalt altar. He made Tarquinius study for hours, continually asking him questions about their content. There was a real sense of urgency in the haruspex' manner and Tarquinius concentrated hard, memorising every last detail.
Olenus also handed him a map, unfolding the cracked leather with enormous care.
'You've never shown me this before.'
'Didn't see a need to,' smiled the old man slyly.
'Who drew it?'
'One of our ancestors. A soldier in Alexander's army perhaps.' He shrugged. 'Who knows? The Periplus was ancient before I was born.'
Tarquinius pored over the parchment. He had seen none of it yet, but the world outside Etruria was totally fascinating to him.
Olenus indicated the centre of the drawing. 'This is the Mediterranean Sea. Ever since they destroyed Carthage, the Romans have called it Mare Nostrum. Our sea.'
'Arrogant bastards.'
'Pay attention!' Olenus' voice was sharp. 'Italy and Greece you know. Here is Lydia in the southwest of Asia Minor. Following the coastline, Syria, Judaea and Egypt.'
'And this?' Tarquinius pointed east of where Olenus' finger had indicated.
'That is Parthia and beyond it lies Margiana.' A strange look flitted across Olenus' face, but he did not elaborate. 'Tarchun came from Resen, a city on the great River Tigris. The land was called Assyria well before the Parthians conquered it.'
'Tarchun!' Tarquinius spoke the name aloud with pride.
'He was a giant to bring our people through so many perils without harm.' Olenus tapped the faded leather again, near the right-hand margin, above Margiana. 'This is Sogdia. Its people have yellow skin and long black hair. They are expert horsemen who fight with bows. To the southeast is Scythia, where Alexander of Macedon finally came to grief.'
Tarquinius was intrigued. The places were further away than he could imagine. 'Did the Rasenna come from Parthia?'
'Who knows?' Olenus lifted a bushy eyebrow. 'Find out for yourself.'
The haruspex' reading came back in a flash. It was beyond Tarquinius' wildest dreams to think of following the route travelled by the first Etruscans.
'A journey back to our origins.' Olenus surveyed the mountainside where he had spent his whole life. 'I would have liked to do the same myself,' he said quietly.
'I will think of you everywhere!'
'That would please me, Arun.'
Awareness of Olenus' impending death never left Tarquinius but he consoled himself by relishing every moment of their time together. To his dismay, the old man announced on the second evening that Tarquinius would have to leave next morning.
'Take it all!' he said. 'Liver, sword, lituus, the map. Everything.'
'We need at least one more day,' pleaded Tarquinius. 'There is so much to learn!'
'I've taught you everything, Arun.' The haruspex had taken to using the ancient term all the time. 'And you know it. You still have to kill that sixth wolf, remember?'
'I don't care!' Tarquinius picked up the gladius, stabbing an imaginary Caelius. 'I'll gut that bastard!'
'Not now.'
He looked at Olenus keenly. 'What do you mean?'
'Destiny cannot be avoided. Caelius will come in three days.'
Tarquinius clenched his fists.
'Tomorrow morning you will leave and I will spend the day with the ancestors, preparing myself for the end.'
Tarquinius sighed. The last few hours together might as well be happy ones. 'Talk me through the points on the liver one more time.'
With a smile, the haruspex obeyed.
'I'll bury it with the lituus near the estate buildings. It will be safe there.'
'No!' Olenus said sharply. 'The bronze can be hidden as you say, but everything else must go with you.'
'Why? They'll be there when I get back.'
The wrinkled face was impenetrable.
Tarquinius shivered. 'I won't be returning?'
There was real sadness in Olenus' eyes. He shook his head once in reply.
'May my travels last many years then!'
'They will, Arun. More than two decades.' He touched the map gently. 'The Periplus will be of enormous use. Write down all that you see. Complete the knowledge of our ancestors and take it to the city of Alexander.'
Tarquinius tried to take in the scale of the task before him.
'The lituus must be there at the end.' Olenus' voice was sombre. 'And burned with your body.'
For once, Tarquinius himself did not acknowledge the comment. 'Andwhen the soldiers have killed you?'
'The birds can pick my bones clean,' said Olenus calmly. 'It does not matter.'
'I will come back,' vowed Tarquinius. 'I will build a pyre. Perform the rituals.'
Olenus seemed pleased. 'Be sure Caelius has gone. I don't want all my hard work going to waste.'
A lump formed in Tarquinius' throat.
'We Etruscans will live on through the Romans. Even without the liver, their ambition and the information in the libri will help them conquer the world.' Olenus saw Tarquinius glance towards the cave and its huge pile of manuscripts. 'Those I will burn. But the Romans already possess many copies taken from our cities. The most important set is already locked away inside the temple of Jupiter in Rome.' He laughed. 'The superstitious fools only consult it in times of great danger.'
Tarquinius was filled with sadness. He had to make himself look the old man in the eye. 'And our people will just wither into dust?'
'You will pass on much information,' replied Olenus enigmatically.
'To whom? There are few pure-bred Etruscans left in the world.'
Olenus removed a small gold ring from his left forefinger. 'Take this.' Finely decorated with a scarab beetle, it had been on the old man's hand as long as Tarquinius had known him. 'Give this to your adopted son at the end. Although Roman, he will be known as a friend of the Rasenna. Some will always remember.'
'Adopted son?'
'All will become clear, Arun.'
Tarquinius waited, hoping for more.
Suddenly Olenus grabbed his arm. 'Caesar must remember he is mortal,' he hissed. 'Do not forget. Your son must tell him that.'
'What?' Tarquinius had no idea what Olenus meant.
'One day a divination will explain everything.' The haruspex turned away and would no longer respond to questions. He shrank into himself, deep in a trance that lasted till the next morning. It was as if Olenus had been drained of all energy, leaving nothing but an empty husk.
Tarquinius' heart was heavy as he filed away Olenus' words at the back of his mind. Gently he laid out the old man in a comfortable position by the fire and for what remained of the night, sat by him, keeping vigil. He had accepted that everything was pre-ordained, but had never imagined having to accept the death of someone so close. Waves of grief washed over him and the sky was paling before Tarquinius had reconciled himself to the fate of someone dearer than his own father. He was now the last haruspex and only his efforts would prevent the ancient knowledge being forgotten for ever. Except by the Romans. Olenus' years of love and effort must not be wasted. It was a heavy burden, but his burning pride in his ancestry gave the young Etruscan a huge sense of purpose.
Next morning was chilly and full of bright sunlight. Thanks to the cave's altitude, temperatures dropped much lower than in the valley. Silence filled the crisp air and the sky was clear of birds. No living creatures were visible on the bare slopes, but Tarquinius knew from experience it was a good time to hunt. The tracks he had seen the night before would lead him to the wolves.
Neither spoke as Tarquinius filled his pack and ate a piece of dry bread. The haruspex sat on a rock by the entrance, watching quietly, a satisfied look on his face.
'Thank you. For everything.' Tarquinius swallowed hard. 'I will always remember you.'
'And I will never forget.'
They grasped forearms. Olenus seemed to have aged even more overnight, but his grip was still strong.
'Go safely, Arun. We will meet in the afterlife.' The old man was calm and serene, at one with his destiny.
Tarquinius lifted his pack; it was heavier now with the liver, staff and sword inside. The map was tucked safely against his chest in a small pouch. He tried to find words.
'There is nothing more to say.' As always, the haruspex had read his mind. 'Go now and be blessed.'
Tarquinius turned and strode down the track, an arrow notched to the bowstring.
He did not look back.