AN OUTCRY OF ANGUISH

Douay-Rheims Bible Jeremiah 31:15

“Thus saith the Lord: A voice was heard on high, a lamentation of mourning and weeping of Rachel, weeping for her children and refusing to be comforted for them because they are not.”

The great torment!………………………A very painful, fierce scene!…………………………….the violence of pulling the swords by force for no reason, unjustified and unexpected, without a thought to carry out such action, shedding innocent blood in an incredible amount, enraged for envy, with no adversary to fight against, yet these babies are receiving strong blows, defenseless and tempted a provocation to strike back; but still, these babies don’t know how to stir deliberate foment let alone retaliation. The mother’s bitter lamentation, their great bewailing, beating themselves in grief! The harsh outcries, severe crying of the innocent babies, their beheadings!

The phenomenon of the physical world for ill-treatment can be preventive, especially to its dearest possession, begging for mercy or sympathy but only fell to deafened ears, down to the hardened ground drenched with children’s blood. When half of their souls, their children are snatched from these woeful mothers, from their unprotected arms by these wild executioners, inflicting vicious beatings, resulting for these mothers to punishing themselves by pulling their hairs, like crazy! Oh! And in what manner they protect their children from any harm or injury? For shielding their babies from the wild attacks of these atrocious soldiers, scrambling unceremoniously for dominion, hiding their youngs while trying to secure themselves at the same time! These babies are pushing their ways to their mothers, recognizing from their young minds the unknown dangers, aware to seek for cover from the harsh persecutions happening around them. Young babies do not know how to hide, for they do not understand the fear to act from the coming danger; thus, the mother and the killer are clamoring and fighting over the child to defend and save her esteemed love of her life, to fend off from snatching this martyr child from her.

—“Why are you taking my child from me? I gave birth to that child! This child came from my womb!” The crying mother said to the executioner. —“My blood gave life to that child; I gave him nourishment from my breast, I carried him from my womb for nine months, and in an instant your brutal and bloodied hand had torn him into pieces? I just gave birth to him and now you threw him into that solid ground!”

Another mother brimming with grief saw her heart’s completion was torn into pieces, her pledge of allegiance was ripped and mangled, but to let her live? Her overflowing tears are exuberant and she spoke to the slayer saying this:

—“Kill me! Why would you let me live? Left alone in this world! Do you feel any guilt? In case there is guilt, let it be mine!…………mine! Did you hear? And if you don’t find any shame for what you’ve done and killing is a pleasure for you, then please intermingle my blood to my dear child’s blood, that I may be delivered from this painful suffering I am bearing.”

Another distressed mother states these words:

—“You are looking for one! But you killed many, and the one you intended to kill will never be found, ever!”

While another unfortunate mother tightly held her bloodied child onto her chest, then she held her child’s head high up to heaven, saying these words:

—“Come quick! O Savior of the world! For even if they keep on looking for you, they will never be successful in finding you, and YOU are nowhere to be found! And even if they found you, YOU fear no one! Come forth upon this cruel King that he may never take another dearest child’s life anymore.”

From up to here is St. Augustine’s narration.

The ground turned red with blood without a pang of guilt, no regret or sense of responsibility. The harsh reality of this horrible shocking incident, and the severe agony of the heartbroken mothers are unimaginable. Tired out and physically drained, they slowly bowed down to the ground and started picking up their children’s body parts. Then, piece by piece, they placed them onto their laps, caressing them affectionately, cradling them, feeling every bit of pieces while singing their lullabies, pretending that their hymnal songs would help them fall asleep. These mothers had no more tears to shed, nothing more to offer but their sweet smiling lips, their heartrending singing are hymns of agony, sounding mentally deranged, for they are now insane! The aftereffect of this indescribable monstrous bloodbath in this madhouse of demons.

But some mothers are still fighting, standing their ground for their children, brave enough to resist and battle their inevitable fate. Seeing their cherished children thrown to the ground, killed by these ruthless executioners, is like part of these mothers’ beings are smashed with it, and every flesh’s splattering impact to that solid ground is like the mother’s hearts crashing into pieces. Attacking with physical force is belligerent; these mothers are not giving up without a fight. They clashed and brawled with these killers, who are now are like the wounded panthers, tired and exhausted. But after biting the Minister’s hand and the altercations between the mothers and the murderers where it’s absolutely a no-win situation, most mothers collapsed down on top of their children’s scattered body parts, soaked in blood. More than sixty children are beheaded, aside from the one’s thrown into the ground. Babies body parts are sprawled out all over the spacious patio, the pool of blood for Herod’s ravaging madness.

The most dreadful and tragic scene, a terrifying story to narrate, a bloody event like no other, the savage and senseless killings of the Holy innocents are over. The murderers are getting ready to depart, leaving this expansive bazaar of tears and blood, when in a sudden, they saw a woman from a distance, carrying a child, a latecomer. The unfortunate mother is unaware of the shocking, terrible event that just transpired, not knowing that her fate is about to change forever. She was dancing; her moving feet are swaying inch by inch as she draws near the cauldron of carnage, swirling around while raising her child above her forehead, kissing his tiny feet, tip-toeing her face. As she continues her path, she sings her merriment songs, happy, encouraging songs, while her baby is joyfully smiling, blithely listening to his mother’s melodious, delightful voice, giggling at his mother’s loving affection.

Cingo finally met the said woman, face to face, and without hesitation, he suddenly grabbed the child’s one leg, raising him upside down. This sudden jolt surprises the child and it causes him to cry aloud. The mother was astonished too, wailing and screaming, terrified from Cingo’s unexpected action, her eyes are wide open, afraid of what could happen next. The child sensed the danger and the sudden force that grabbed him; alarmed by the vicious assault that besieged him, he bursts out crying, a horrific piercing blasts of calling, not knowing the threat, for he is still a baby.

—“Woe is me, Oh! wicked slave, if you just touch a strand of that child’s hair!” The woman’s outcry, then gave Cingo a dirty look, rising in anger.

—“Don’t be afraid!” Cingo replied while laughing, mixed with mockery and intense violence in his face. —“You won’t tell me to the judges in Jerusalem, aren’t you?”

—“Tremble in fear, you fool!” The woman said anew, that by the time were restrained by Cingo’s two soldiers. —“That child is the one to inherit Juda’s crown. He is a King’s child, destined to inherit the throne.”

Cingo heard this statement, and immediately a spark of light flashes through his eyes, a vicious hilarity was shown in to his blackface, then he responded like this:

—“Ah! Therefore this child is the King of Juda? Well, he is what we are looking for, we could have avoided a tremendous amount of bloodshed.”

Then, while laughing, Cingo began to rotate the child like a propeller in the air and bluntly released the baby in full force. The child flew through the air, whirling around and collided to a concrete solid wall. The impact causes a tremendous amount of blood spurting out, squirting like water gushing down to the ground together with the child.

Cingo’s comrades are bursting out of laughing, a deafening bizarre screaming of joy, a terrible insanity of insulting mockery erupted through the air. Then, the head leader walked towards the infant from where it landed and picked up the crushed body of the child.

The evil derision of satisfaction indulged with lusts for blood flowing down the solid ground as the leader went to that little boy’s body, for they are not done yet. One of the soldiers pulled a sword and beheaded the dangling soft head of the child, finishing the scenario by bending one knee to the ground, genuflecting in front of Cingo, before speaking, in unprecedented wicked ways he says:

—“Cingo, I am granting you this King’s head, but don’t forget to give me my due compensation.”

The overwhelmed and devastated woman watched the unimaginable sight she had ever witnessed; she couldn’t get hold of herself any longer, and was unable to stand watching this gruesome killing of her child. a flabbergasting trauma, seeing the blood spewing out her babies head is enough for her to fall apart and collapse, dropped down to the ground face first!

Cingo tied the child’s severed head at the end of his shawl and left the place with his savage soldiers. The mothers were the only ones left in that slaughterous cauldron, in anguish, filled with miseries, and bathed in blood. They are in shock of disbelief. Some are wandering about, aimlessly gloomy, with hollowed eyes and muted, without a purpose, staring into nothingness of oblivion. Some are in shock while sitting, bewildered and overwhelmed while staring into space; some are wailing and lamenting. Numbness gripped their hearts, detached from the reality of their surroundings, disinterested on others. Staying for more hours beside the torn and scattered body parts of their babies, gathering the remains bit by bit, like they are captives into that place, held by an unseen force to delay their escape, but opposing this feeling for they no longer want to see this abominable place. Until the dark blanket of the night started to sprawl into the land, spreading its frightful blackness; but the moons silvery light began to emerge, shining its brilliant radiance towards this eerie sight. It claims, from the folklore’s legends, that the shining stars that night was God’s will, to spread it’s brightest shimmering light to guide those innocent souls from Bethlehem, and help them reach their destination, in the “Great Beyond” where God dwells. “Heaven,” leading by the melancholic and glorious light.

The fathers victim children are now back home from their all-day work in their farmlands. Their painful grieving are severely calamitous, from finding out the barbaric haughtiness, of the accursed bloodbath of their dear children, while they were in the field.

But Oh! These poor and unarmed farmers, what are their defense against Herod’s raging lunacy, and what are their shield to those brutal, powerful Romans? Nothing but tears! These grieving fathers are crying bitter tears of sorrow; the loud outcry from Bethlehem and the nearby towns are hard to describe. Their pain and sufferings from their afflicted hearts are heard down to the deep depths of graves, descending downwards to the underworld of the abyss, where the dead lies down to rest in peace. Their tears of anguish are justified for the harsh weeping by realizing the horrifying incident that just transpired, the killing of the Holy innocents!

Bethlehem, David’s town, became the motherland, the cradle of the first martyrs of Christianity. The precious smiles of those little angels who were murdered by these unflinching swords for the undeniable lusting for blood of this evil King.

Teardrops of healing beads, sprinkled through the land of the first martyrs of Christianity for abundance, like the mists of fresh morning dew flowing down from heaven for a new and beauteous day. Sweetening the bitter pain, moistening the dazzling scented flowers, carried by these beaming Christian souls, offering and bowing down their foreheads in front of this sacred tree that gave the ultimate freedom for humanity, this Divine Tree who voluntarily sacrifices oneself with humility remitting the afflicting darkness of the land. God’s plan is now working to take His precious land back to HIS Dominion from that night of bloodshed!

God escaped the horrendous killings that night, for He is destined to die on the cross; the blood He will shed for humanity is imminent, the coming Messiah to redeem the world, the forthcoming Savior led by the children’s blood from Bethlehem!

Feasts of the Holy Innocent: December 28 Matthew 2:16

THE SONGS OF CELEBRATION

Sing ye O birds from the far east’s marvelous places, from those high wood ends of that soft fibrous bendable, the uttermost edge calmly kindling from within your nesting place, willing to please your suitable nests, correlating the level of your maternal care. Spread your glamorous wings O birds of distinctive colors, for the morning breeze caresses your flambouyant feathers, restoring your dazzling feathery affections to your fabulous wings of larks.

O ye of majestic roses from Jericho, the sweet fragrances of Carmelo’s plants, those delicate lilies from Zabulon’s wilderness, and ye O royal violets in Jordan, spread your bouquet of flowers and shower the prairies of your pleasant pollen’s from your sweet perfumes. The quiet demure of your shy morning star scatters its’ glorious splendor over the meadows, and your fresh morning dew, the celestial beauty of its’ silvery moisture, diffuses its’ glistening vapors down your superficial surface to give life to all. The delightful sceneries of your endless farmlands are the sweet perfumes of your flowers, relinquishing the atmosphere of your countryside that beautifies your magnificent land, for the bright resplendent sky is graciously smiling at you. But be beware of the warm breeze that tickles your sweet senses, for this soft wind is whispering a lonely sigh, a terrifying howl, whistling a soft sob, murmuring from between the green branches of Jerusalem’s palm trees.

Never before, in this bountiful Palestine, just like today, through its’ gentle wind, as accurate as now, in this gorgeous day with absolute happiness and beauty, blasted a resounding echo of agony! Never before, and beyond imagination, is the glimpse of what lies ahead. For from the glittering, cascading light, pouring down like waterfalls from heaven, in this passionate, poetic land, and from the sanctifying bright shining sun, streaming down to its’ unaware citizens, are the innocent victims of this wondrous land.

Just before the sunrise broke down from the horizon are these effulgent men, welcoming the bursts of a brand new day, walking joyfully, going to their farmlands, with their peaceful hearts shining from within, reflecting their smiles, expressing great pleasure of happiness with their bright gleaming faces. Oh! this blessed day, unblemished from the darkest clouds, that can ruin its’ brightness, is the sacred, incandescent light scattering to its’ dignified hard-working people. A one harmonious day of blessedness in their hearts, filled with sweet valor, showing courage and determination from the rhythm of their one idyllic beauty of a bright new day. The chirping sounds of those happy birds are playing their parts for welcoming this lovely day, and with the delightful flowers from the meadows, spreading its’ intoxicating aromas, is the raspy wind, screaming from within, lamenting beforehand. But this deceitful cloudless bright day is the prelude for the coming misfortune, with its’ finest wind flowing down from heaven, kissing the leaves uttermost tips from the woods, the repulsive purple color of its’ soil, and the warm affable coziness coming from the sun are blinding from within, misleading the unfortunate event that is about to reel out. The misrepresentation of giving more charm and beauty to grew a greater day in abundance.

A big group of women from Bethlehem, and Ramlah is appearing from the distance, happily dancing as they paraded, stomping the ground for celebration, singing their country songs, while joyfully walking. They are all dressed in festive clothing, pursuing the road to City of David, intending to celebrate “The Feasts of Easter and Azimos” in the City called “Holy.”

Where so to go? O ye women from Bethlehem, wearing the prettiest dresses in town? And why in their arms are their beloved babies, smiling wonderfully like a bright shining stars from the sweet, loving songs of their caring mothers? What could be the exciting event, an affair of celebration in Bethlehem that every woman from Juda, and even to the farthest secluded corners in town are united within, and could not be more happier, merrily marching, going to the said city where Jesus was born?

An older man, covered with white striped red shawl is walking along the road, on the way to Idumean dried land, in pursuance to reach the Arabian Desert, the south and east, and Arabah to the west. On the opposite side of the road and coming into sight are a thick group of women, approaching gaily, singing joyfully, rejoicing while marching along with their children. Their ineffable merriment is indescribable, which caught his attention, and so he stopped walking.

The older man waited at the lowland road as his body pressed against his cedar cane.

—“Women from Juda,” the older man’s trembling voice said. —“Where are you going? In this early morning, even before the sun rises, with your babies, everybody seemed to be in great joy?”

—“Old man!” replied by one of the woman with unruly tongue. —“Who in Bethlehem, and even from the nearby towns would not know this occassion, expressing our heartfelt celebration as the rejoicing mothers?”

—“I am not from here; but I live in Arabia Petraea, and now I am on my way to the land of the Israelites. I am like a bird looking for it’s nests of comfort.” The older man said.

—“Go on to Zion’s Temple!” Another woman said.

—“Come with us! So we can share with you our enormous great joy!” Another one said.

—“I can’t,” replied the older man. —“My wife and my children are waiting for me, especially my people living on the Red sea’s side of the shores. They wait for me everyday; they shed tears of sadness every sunset while waiting for me, their precious tears are dedicated for me. But can you tell me the reason of your rejoicing? I want to remember this event, meeting happy people on the road, can make me remember this happy event, and in my lonely hours can help me kept awake at night during the cold season. And I can also tell this happy story to my children while we are huddled around the fire, as I narrate my inspiring stories of my travels”

—“We can’t be delayed now! They are waiting for us in Bethlehem. We were instructed to be in attendance just before the morning prayers (Virgilia Matutina), and they had no time to wait for us throughout the day. Our children’s future is being built upon this event,” explained one lady.

—“If that is so, I must go now! And may peace be with you all!” The older man said.

Then he continued to walk on peacefully, going to the mountainous side of Judea. The women pursued also, on their way to their destination, cheerfully singing once again, excited, exchanging jokes with each other while climbing the mountainous hillslopes, ascending through the flanks of valleys and the margins of the eroding uplands. At the top of these mountainous hillslopes stood the famous town of David, the Holy City where Jesus was born!

Let us go back for a few hours more to find out the reason behind the overflowing happiness of these women from Bethlehem.

That afternoon from that previous day, was the brutal slave of Herod, Cingo. He came to town in Bethlehem with group of big, strong soldiers for a decree. By sounding the trumpet, an announcement was made, known to peaceful people of Bethlehem as a declaration of a new mandate from the Caesar or their King, Herod, and they were not mistaken. A spokesperson called out loud, and with his clear resounding voice, he declared publicly the following:

—“I Herod, King of Judea and the Governor-General of the twelve tribes of Israel, through this publicized announcement, I command to implement the following:

“That all mothers from Bethlehem and the mothers from the nearby towns, with their male children, from two years old and under, are invited to come to the courtyard’s big hall tomorrow. After the morning prayers, Herod will grant them valuable rewards to those who could come in this great event. This is for the veneration of their well-being, for their dear beloved male children that God bestowed on those loving mothers from the God of Zion. May this be an honour to their names, and become an additional blessings to their descendants. A mother who could not come and would not comply to this order, or are late to attend to this big event will be punished. Disobeying the King’s order will enforce the separation of their beloved children from their caring mothers forever! — I am Herod!”

This announcement of command spreads all over the city of David and to their nearby towns. It was regarded as a sweet ordinances, promulgated by their King, and the mothers are filled with joy in their hearts. These foolish women from Bethlehem had their wishes, a strong desire for their children to be privileged, a dream of having a noble future, prepared beforehand by their excellent King. And how can you resist this one demand of command, after clearly stating to obtain a one valuable reward for your child’s success, and the consequences for disobeying this order will inevitably lead to a severe punishment?

But oh! Those ill-fated mothers that don’t realize the hard to understand beastlike behaviors, and was never made known beforehand this absolute evil, from the planned deception, misleading the innocent victims with no sense of moral character from their King? But instead are excited to this lying betrayal, not knowing the preceding sacrifices are about to take place, like kissing goodbye to their white innocent lambs under the sharpened axes of their executioners.

The dreadful place destined for the massacre of the Holy innocents is a large spacious courtyard, surrounded by beautiful, charming gardens with its’ continuous wall structures, enclosing the whole area for some privacy.

Cingo, the trustworthy stewards, who will execute the barbaric plan from Herod’s secret orders, is already there with his robusts and brutal soldiers——waiting for the right moment, ready for the signal to begin their murderous plot. Without a hint of the terrifying finalization of this event, these unconscious mothers started their admittance, entering into that place of carnage and bloodshed. These babies are all smiling, holding the hands of their loving mothers, while these mothers in attendance are humbled enough to greet their killers. They look happy from expressing their friendliness, and even proud for parading their beloved fruits, the product of their wombs. In this way, had the mothers continued to come until the said place was filled with these unaware guests. A quick glance from the wild servant, Cingo, had swiftly surmised the great crowd with lusts for blood in his eyes, for the unaware mothers are even excited, fascinated to this great event, showing from their faces are their tender affections to their children. Then it came to mind that the hour has come, Cingo is all prepared to carry out his monstrous quest from his Lord’s command, Herod. But this heartless event is consistent, agreeing to its’ evil purpose, they were about to begin the massacre, when a mother approached Cingo, and with her cheerful attitude, she asked him of when is the promised rewards be distributed. This unfortunate mother is carrying two babies; the youngest is a suckling babe, taking nourishment from his mother’s breast while sleeping in her arms, and the bigger one is two years old, smiling and holding his mother’s left hand, pleasantly enjoying the crystallized shining dark face of the slave.

—“Sir, when will they begin distributing the promised valuable rewards?” The innocent mother asked. —“For I am in a hurry, I have plenty of things to do at home, my household chores.”

—“You are now free to go, and be the master of your will!” Cingo replied, and without any hesitation, he snatched the suckling babe from his mother’s arms.

The woman was shocked, stunned by Cingo’s action, that by his strong hands, and with all his might, Cingo powerfully throw her child to the sharpest corner of the wall. The appalled and baffled mother was bewildered, and could not understand the brutal attack she had witnessed. Her eyes are wide open from the extreme atrocity, screaming the loudest after regaining from her shocking confusion, watching the unimaginable bestiality, the woman collapses at the top of her still warm, torn, and bloodied body of her child. The loud scream serves as an indication to get into action the gruesome killings of the innocent babies.

Where can we find or hear this true-to-life monstrous event that took place in the said Holy City? A hard to describe illustration, with each abominable action to every innocent child from Bethlehem, filled with the reality of brutality? The dreadful and savage scene, from the grisly bloodshed all over the hall is the unforgettable, hard to erase thoughts from the unconscious mind, the incomprehensible cruelty that create a loud outcry from a loving heart, crying in horror of disbelief. Tears are gushing forth from those once loving eyes for the great anguish, lamenting in deep mourning for this merciless carnage.

Saint Augustine, known as “The Augustine of Hippo,” was a theologian philosopher and of Berber origin, and the Bishop of Hippo Regius in Numidia, Roman North Africa. His undying writings influenced the development of Western Philosophy and Western Christianity, and viewed as one of the most important Church Fathers of the Latin Church in the Patristic period. Through the stroke of his unique, inimitable pen and with his noble mind, his outstanding intelligence, and his deep, immense way of thinking, from heaven’s radiant love, God granted him the clear perception to portray the indescribable event from that reprehensible act, Herod’s killings of the innocent babies.

Let us take a moment and let us put to light the brief sketch of Saint Augustine’s life. A true African, Saint Augustine was influenced by Saint Ambrose’s excellent way of preaching; and from the help of his mother’s pleading to God for his conversion, he was baptized as a Christ-follower in Milan on Easter Vigil. His outpouring brilliant mind, made him brave enough to compose and write the book entitled: “The City of Gods.”

Herod’s killings of the Holy innocents is his clear antecedent of how he portrayed the gruesome incident that took place and made the world cry. Recounting the process for telling the story and writing the fact, is like a bright shining sun, continuously uncovering the event, as it slowly being revealed from within him and became known to his perceptive mind. The unhindered illustration, materializing from within is gradually spreading like a disease unfolding before him. It expanded from one incident to another, like whispers pouring down from heaven, as teardrops gushing forth from his grieving eyes, an overwhelming grief, from the unthinkable agony of this distressed soul. The truthfulness of the circumstance gave him great despair and anxiety. This is how he narrates the story:

A ONE HYENA’S HEART

Just before the night, the sunset’s glistening sparks of light on the water from the horizon is captivating, as if by magic from the precious eyes of the inhabitants, the foreboding sign of the approaching night, a gloomy scenery, bewitching the pleasing darkness to come. But like every other circumstance, that after the dark nightfall is the new dawn of day. The beginning of a new day had started and Herod, followed by tens of his slaves, left Augustus’s palace, in preparation for his long journey, to return to Jerusalem. It was a very busy day for everyone. Herod is far from being excited to leave Rome, a bit of agitation worried his heart from what the Emperor had asked of him about this newborn King, Jesus!

But before leaving the palace, Herod’s cunning nature and his devious intelligence had made him asked the Emperor, a request for his speedy return to Jerusalem. To travel by water from Tiber’s sea, for his reasoning that he can’t sit long enough to travel by land because of his painful illness. The Caesar complied and ordered to position the galley’s at Rome’s seaport. True that Herod is sick, but the integrity of his reasoning to travel by sea for his illness is not true. For his children, Aristobulus and Philip’s failed accusation towards him, combined with Antipater and Paulo’s connivance for his demise, to plan for his assassination made him concoct a ruthless scheme that quickly inflates one’s ego, his insane madness coming from his hellish heart.

—“My children know me very well,” he thought to himself, —“and if we travel by land, it is sure to happen and it cannot be prevented for them to think of escaping, and that is not hard to achieve. But travel by sea? Aha! It’s a different story, for no one can stop me to chain them to the ship’s prow, and in there they cannot leave unless I will it!”

The immediate preparation had come into actualization. Herod’s two sons was escorted to Tiber’s shores, riding the couchette’s carriage, guarded by his faithful slaves. Arriving at the Tiber’s shores, Herod ordered them to take his two sons along with him to the ship where he’s also boarded. The vessels they called galley’s are fast filling up, but the crew are still waiting for the Safety Committee for the ship launching to perform ceremonies before transferring the vessels into the water. The galleons are decorated with lavish richness like its’ ready for the great feasts. The main mast beside the coiled rope is covered with many flowers and tiny flags of various colors. The tripled layers of paddlers, sitting on their seats are holding their oars, raised half and half from the yellowish water, waiting for the signal or a command shout from the “comitre,” or the “captain,” to start the propeller and pushed the ship and began to voyage. The commandant on top of the “aftercastle” (mizzenmast on the large sailing ships) is afar. Whereas, the ship pilot and the “Pollero,” or the poulterer (chicken farmer), where this last one is carrying a cage with few chickens confined inside, these birds are needed considerably for the ceremonies.

Herod went upstairs at the aftercastle to led the corresponding ceremony. The ceremonial “ship launching” was necessary for the ship’s intended to invite good luck before transmitting the vessel into the water, but not until the ceremonies were brought into completion. A tradition to accompany the physical process with ceremonies which had been observed as public celebration and a solemn blessings in association with the “launch” itself. By one gesture of the commandant, the Safety Committee would beat the wood plank with his cane, signaling everybody to stand up and pray to their designated gods and goddesses. The pollero, after the prayers, had tossed a handful of wheats beside the cage as they freed these meek birds, rushing through, charging while pecking at their desired grains. Approaching the cage’s side is a highly regarded man with white beards, wearing an unusual clothing in absolute majestic color. An Arabian sack clothing with the purple stripe in full scarlet color, defined with gold crochet around the shawl; he is wearing a white bonnet on his head in a triangular shape, covered with cabalistic symbols. A hood is covering his entire noble head, and in his hand is a short cane.

The old man is what they called “Augur,” like a chief priest that can predict what’s coming, a seer, that Romans genuinely respect.

After observing how the chickens bountifully ate the grains, this old man raised his eyes to heaven, seemingly praying. Then whipped one of the chickens by his cane and shouted aloud to all the crew on board in all the three ships.

—“The chickens are eating good, and the grains are dropping from their beaks, scattering throughout the ground…………..a good sign………..a good news!”

A loud uproar from the three ships blasted away, rejoicing shouts for joy and celebration. Slaughtering few chickens is an invocation for a glorious journey. Sneezing or any interruptions from the commandant while performing the ceremony or seagulls flew across the ship where the rituals are being held is not a good sign, and the journey may not have been proceeded. Such a thing is how Roman’s blind faith works at that time.

The “Augur” or the “seer” perceived that the ceremonies had occurred without any trouble to foresee a disaster. Watching the clear blue sky is the reason for the Augur to give permission, the Safety Committee to launch the ships, leave the port and begin the journey.

Then the Augur left the ship without delay, leaving the ship, escorted back to the shore, riding a small boat. The Augur’s short distance from crossing the water, spurred the crew ships to bestow an honorable salute by giving him the exuberance of cheerfulness, shouting for joy and their blessings for the successful performance of the ceremony. Then the commandant proceed to give order to launch the galleons, and for this, the oarmaster or the “Comite” had to beat the wood plank once again with his cane to launch the sailing ships to push. At the given signal, the ships glided into the waters, a sublime spectacle of gracefulness and grandeur. The paddlers powered by their paddles delved into the deep water like it was restraint by one person. They simultaneously paddles, bringing hoarse rasps noise as the paddlers gouge deep into the water, moving into the water with such steadiness, majesty and exactness as every one’s heart are filled with joy and delight. The launching ships are propelling accordingly to the water currents, moving slowly to the surface of this yellowish water of Tiber going to the Tyrrhenian sea.

As soon as the sailing ships are barely emerging towards the sea, the crews raised the sails at once for the wind’s instinctive flows that occurs on a range scales favorable to their direction.

Herod is laying down on top of his big pillows, conversing with the commandant under the white linen shades designed for protection from the sun’s heat for the noble traveler. His two sons are tightly guarded by Cingo and his comrades at the other end of that ship, and the court had granted Herod the 4th commandment, known by the readers, as the wicked power in favor of the father. Herod pretends to embrace and follow Augustus’s advice, for in the last few days that they stayed in Rome, Herod’s showmanship to give his two sons so much love was outstanding that even the Caesar was deceived. Augustus truly believed that he had resolved father and son’s intense hatred from each other, but the cheating behavior of the Idumean misled him.

Herod is now safe from Paulo’s planned assassination with Antipater. Thank you for the untiring and unfailing service of his faithful slave Cingo; Herod is now calmly sailing, heading to his coastline, in complete confidence with the people surrounding him.

Just as soon as Herod ship’s longitudinal keel waddles, barely outlining the Mediterranean water, he immediately ordered his slaves to put chains in each of his son’s necks to prevent them from escaping. The commandants and Antonio, the centurion, were disgusted with what Herod had commanded. They did not expect and could not believe the sickening enactment Herod carried out. He is a true blood contingent, from the father’s heart to his two sons, but no one dares to obstruct or hinder. With this rude awakening, Aristobulus and Philip had perfectly understood the gruesome death that’s awaiting them. Still, they are brave, and in their youth, their mixed emotions of anger and hatred are flaring up, with an enormous feeling of horror for their sure ending. Curses came out from their guiltless lips with a smile filled with mockery, and in their eyes are the look of burning rage, a death glare. The three galleons had sailed for a few days more and perfectly reached the Phoenician’s shoreline. An hour after arriving the seaport, the paddlers left their seats, and brought the ships to tie them at the dock of the bay at Beirut’s harbor.

At this point, Herod told the ship’s commandant that he wanted to travel by land to Jerusalem, and he wanted to ride at his couchette carriage (litera). Leaving the galleon to travel by land, Herod bid goodbye to his crew ship and gave away tremendous amount of money in appreciation for the good services he obtained. Herod finally came up the shore followed by Antonio and his military units of one hundred soldiers.

With his escorts, this King who pays taxes walked through the shores welcomed by people from Beirut, the onlookers who came with great yearning to see something new and different from their eyes, unknowingly that their desire to see something unusual is a big terrible surprise, an unforgettable event that will shocked and shake their entire beings.

Herod then ordered his slaves to assemble his carriage with a couchette bed. After putting it all together, he helped himself to lay on top of those big pillows comfortably, like a rightful King. While Herod converses with Cingo, Antonio, the centurion, took his horse from the ship, for he is the lead escort of Herod through Jerusalem.

—“Obey my command Cingo,” Herod said to his slave, —“for I want to quicken my travel to Jerusalem to see my son Antipater.”

Cingo left immediately, leaving the carriage called “car” where Herod is riding. Cingo gathered along with other slaves, far and out of sight from the watchmen guarding the two prisoners tied with chains about their necks. The watchmen are protecting the surroundings, making sure that nothing would get out of hand, as they patiently waiting for their Lord’s command any moment now.

Then, to everyone’s surprise, as quickly as it happens, six slaves stood up from the shaky sand of some timber gables, a gallows for the hanging of criminals. The spectators were all flabbergasted and speechless, shocked from seeing Herod’s crazy slaves and the crazy blind servants of the cruel Ashkelon, went to the two prisoners and started tightening some thick solid rope around the unfortunate Aristobulus and Philip’s necks. Then the slaves, without mercy, dragged the two prisoners down the gallow, a crosspiece for the hanging of the criminals, and none dared to hinder or stop this kind of unbeknownst, pure evil work. The unfortunate and horrified Prince’s were hanged like rug dolls, while uttering curses until they expire from the whole time of their sufferings and torment. But their father, the wicked oppressor with a heart of stone, rigid than a rock, had watched the execution of his two sons like nothing matters. The brutal death of his two sons gave him so much delight in his heart, but the onlookers who witnessed the execution including the Roman soldiers were rattled, and screaming; some were enraged, while the others are crying from this awful, inhumane atrocity, expressing their horrendous emotions for what they had seen.

Then silence, everyone’s standing still. A loud shout from behind the curtain of Herod’s carriage window blasted in full force, everyone was rattled, he screamed the following:

—“Romans and Phoenicians, hear me out! That is the King’s punishment in Jerusalem to their traitor children! Let’s continue to Jericho! Go on to Jericho!” Herod’s loud announcement of command.

Everyone trembles from the blasts of Herod’s voice. His words are horrifying to Beirut’s believers and to the Capitol’s ignorant soldiers. Then he closed the curtains covering his carriage, and he carelessly laid down on top of his big pillows, comfortably.

The whole troops started to walk, including the committees. Tracing “Via Romana” road, they continue to Galilee and then to Samaria, pursuing the road to Idumean’s chosen city, Jerusalem.

Meanwhile, Aristobulus and Philip’s corpses were left hanging at the gallow, their hair raised up in the air, their fierce bulged eyes are wide open, and their faces are distorted and darkened. Their bodies are convulsing in the middle of that shore’s soft sand, shaking as they drew their last breath. A period of time had gone by, and the crows from Lebanon had perceived the distinctive stench of the corpses carried by the gentle wind, transported smoothly through their hiding places. From the rock’s cavities where the crows hide, these natural predators flew through and found their way to these two Prince’s corpses, circling the gallows, creating the unceasing sounds of the cawing’s loud noise.

It’s like these creatures were invited for a special feasts given to them by Herod, where the prepared food is his dead children’s corpses.

With this abominable event and the horrifying intimidation they had experienced, these shocked Beirut’s children were upset by the unexpected bad event they had witnessed, but they finally regained their consciousness; they seemed to disappoint the hungry crows, in anticipating to eat the human flesh. For the good citizens had quietly managed to bury the corpses of these two unfortunate Prince.

Herod finally arrived at the city he held dear. Antonio and the terrorized soldiers are heartbroken throughout their journey and in grief from Herod’s monstrous vengeance, the one diabolic father, with no sense of reasoning. Everyone followed and acted accordingly, somber and miserable with their faces scowled, mixed with anger and disgust. The escorts are in unity following the carriage of their Lord, like following their friends hearse, the General’s corpse that got killed in a battlefield. The order they received from Augustus was to obey Herod. These unintelligent soldiers are skillful and best accustomed in battle array; they complied to follow Herod’s carriage, but with resentment and displeasure.

As soon as Herod arrived in Jericho, he ordered Verutidio immediately to travel to Jerusalem to arrest Antipater. The Roman General has the authority to arrest Antipater, and he was instructed to transport Antipater to Jericho garbed with iron chains. But the traitor Prince, had learned the safe return of his father to Jericho, a perfect understanding that his father had found out and destroyed his deadly plan. So, before the General had reached Jerusalem’s murals, Antipater knowing that his demise is realized, and in which the loss of his life is imminent, he escaped. The Prince change clothing to an ordinary garb, he covered his face completely with the hood and creep into the city in the middle of the night, slipping through the shadows of the darkest night, pursuing the road, with the moon’s lustrous light, as he hid from the watchful eyes. Antipater left the city, and thanks for the rapid fly-away horse he’s riding, he survived and came into safety. But his unfortunate conspirators were caught and jailed in “Antonia’s Fortress,” or “Tower of Antonia,” with their hands and feet bound with chains.

But the fiery Herod had found out the great escape of his son Antipater. He was furious and could not believe the quick wit of his son, his wild mindset stirred up his tyrannous savagery and his body started to convulse, he trembled and bursts out in anger; his fury of rage is so great that it resembles insanity. The beast who forgets the excellency of a one King, had brutally rent and tare his clothes from his body. His preceding illness had attacked him again, with a vengeful pain in his stomach. The extreme pain caused him to drop down the floor and rolled around like a wheel, with masses of bubbles foaming out his mouth, cursing and screaming blasphemies are fuming out from his unclean lips.

He is attuned, behaving accordingly as a wild beast, and there are only two people who can calm him and talk to him in this extreme and tormenting rampage; his grandson Achiab and Cingo, his slave. For it is really dangerous for anyone to speak to Herod in this time of seething eruption.

—“Achiab! Achiab!” The monstrous Idumean shouted as he set his ghastly sharpened eyes to this child, shaking in fear, standing beside him. —“If one of these days you had an opportunity to obtain a crown, remember Amulius’s story of Romulus and Remus. Kill my child! Kill! For the traitors are scheming to betray the King for his power and with his life!”

Achiab is his forefather’s caretaker; he assumes that those screams are the cause of the old man’s severe pain for his illness. His grandsire’s terrifying vast chasm nervously shook him in fear as he ran and took a cup of Herod’s medication. He immediately managed to effortful give the goblet with its’ substance to his grandsire and spoke these words at the same time, saying:

—“Take this grandpa, so that you can rest and relax.”

—“Ah!” The sick person said. —“Are you also one of those people who want to poison me?”

The child was stunned by Herod’s accusation; it hurts his feelings, and this caused him deep resentment. His face turned red and two drops of tears gushed forth his youthful cheeks, shamefully embarrassed. And these already stated that Achiab’s response to Herod’s claim was to take the cup of substance into his mouth and swallowed half of the goblet’s medication. Then he gave the other half back to his old man.

—“Go on grandsire, drink it!” The afreshly offer of Achiab to his old man.

Herod felt the embarrassment, cold blood poured down his whole body for doubting his grandson, he’s like a melting candle in front of his grandson silently weeping. He took the cup in silence and drank the rest of the substance from the goblet. He regretted his false allegation and in his mild voice, he spoke contending to hold his uncertain temper and forced to calm down his voice in a soft and gentle way.

—“Go on Achiab! Please leave, I want to be left alone with Cingo.”

The child left the room after kissing his grandsire’s forehead. The King was left alone with his slave Cingo; as Herod sat down to his big pillows, he fixed his blazing eyes towards Cingo, he firmly spoke with his solid voice and with his straightened hand, he pointed towards the door.

—“In Bethlehem Cingo, in Bethlehem, I adjure you to carry out the slaughter of the male children, ages two and younger within the vicinity of Bethlehem and its’ surrounding regions, that no one is left alive. I am the King of Juda, and I want that after my death, will my crown be transferred to my children.”

The massacre of the Holy innocents was the result of King Herod’s extreme paranoia and cruelty. Herod would do anything to protect his crown, including murdering all the little boys in Bethlehem. Herod could not allow a rival King to live, so Herod took no chances and had all the male children under two in Bethlehem, killed.

Cingo left without saying a word, in his mind, and without any hesitation, he will obediently execute his Lord’s command.

Herod was left alone in his room, whispering these words to himself:

—“Augustus want me find the child and send this Jesus to him like a King? For what? To grant Him all the honor and dignity of King’s victory?———–He may also want to grant HIM my crown!”

Then he gently caressed his glittering crown that’s always sitting beside him, while he delivered an irritating chuckles and spoke like this”

—“He’s not going to Rome, it can’t be, the dead cannot reign, cannot talk and cannot have vengeance!”

DELPHI’S ORACLES

The soft pitter-patter of the falling rain sprinkling through the swaying trees, streaming down the bushes, creating the sounds that gives the terrifying aspects of a frightening specter, and it happened that the Cumaean Sibyl is now walking through “Via Appia,” smoothly gliding, effortlessly finding her way to Rome.

And at the same time, two horse riders that night, had suddenly burgeoned in that cold dampened night, it was midnight and they are rushing fiercely in that bleak dark hours, their horses are galloping in a stretch land, treading Juno’s wide road, heading to Palatine Hills. The pretty leopard skin wrapped around their horses body and the flying cloak they are wearing are soaking wet, mud splattered on them as they gushed forth the cold rain through their whole journey.

One of the horse riders is a handsome young man, possibly 24 years of age, in medium built, but having an appearance of a man from a noble birth. This man exhibits his equestrian skills in riding the horse; his face is pale in color with an outward aspect of being firm and tough that gives a lonely appearance. Under the cloudy sky in a wistful night is the hazy vision that this young man has a snake, with a size of a two-inch round in circumference, coiled around his neck. From time to time, this young man would rather play the snake’s flat head by his hand or sometimes would rub it by the endpoint of his finely shaven chin.

This young man’s name is Tiberius; he is Augustus’s corresponding nephew. Tiberius is indeed destined to be in great luck to be the future Emperor of the Roman Empire.

The other person next to him is not far for a sportsperson, an “athlete.” His name is Macron, the preferred slave of this “forthcoming wicked King,” cursed by humankind, who put a mother to death for weeping over her child’s death, beheaded by Tiberius. The mother who pulled out her hair, screaming like insanely mad, for Cartucio’s had committed suicide in jail sooner than expected before his death sentence came to fruition from Tiberius’s judgment, the barbaric King.

After days of traveling, the two keen horse riders finally reached their destination; they arrived at the gate of Augustus’s palace. They immediately disembark from their horses, wet and tired from their long journey. The soldiers were distracted from the arrival of these two bold and unexpected guests, that causes commotions at that time of the night among the guards, and instantly the two horse riders were besiege and surrounded immediately by Caesar’s guards.

—“What! You don’t know me anymore, old wolves?” Tiberius’s hostile display of authority. —“It’s so quick for you guys to forget the face of you Lord’s nephew. For this, I am advising everyone to offer dove’s heart to god Aesculapius to freshen your memories and open your eyes.” After saying these words, he threw his horse bridle to Macron, his slave.

—“Long live Tiberius! Our General!” Hollered by the guards while bowing their heads at the same time.

—“In Jupiter’s name, the immortal one, thank you!” Tiberius response.

After removing the snake coiled around his neck, he handed it to his slave, then spoke after petting the snake’s flat head.

—“Macron, take my beloved snake and hide it. My noble forefather Augustus is rightfully disgusted with these animals that crawl. All of these noble people have their own weaknesses; Julius Caesar, our glorious relative, hides in his basement during severe thunderstorms across the sky in Rome, and Augustus, my stepfather, would turn pale immediately upon seeing a snake.”

Macron, who neither responded nor said a word, amazingly thrust the snake inside his shirt, without fear, while Tiberius is climbing the palace’s wide stairs. Then Macron, went straight to leading the horse’s to it’s designated stables for the night rest.

Tiberius reached the second-floor hall and went straight to the Emperor’s office. At the door is one of the Lictors who greeted him, and Tiberius responded like this:

—“Tell Caesar that Tiberius is here.”

In a few seconds, the door opened wide, and Augustus emerged at the doorway and gave his nephew a warm hug.

—“My dear uncle.” Tiberius’s pleasant greetings. —“You deemed me to leave my highlands of the mountainous region where I dwell to live with you in your palace here in Rome; your wish is Tiberius’s command, and I am here now.”

—“My beloved nephew,” Augustus replied. —“My moment is gradually declining now, and my body is slowly winding down to the ground. I am in need of a young man with strong arms to govern the Imperial Rome after my death. I want to pass my crown to your forehead and my royal robe to your shoulder.”

Tiberius bowed down his head not for respect for his uncle nor thanking him, but to hide his overflowing joy from his heart.

—“I am your first slave my Lord.” Tiberius said. —“Command art thou, but I am more pleased being alone in the privacy of my peaceful mountainous hills of Rhodes, than to be in this clamorous, deafening Rome.”

—“I called you,” the mild-mannered Augustus said and ignored Tiberius’s statement. —“Because I want to teach you the responsibilities, the worthy obligations of a merciful and a just King. “Peace for the Kingdom” is the first to initiate with certain quality, and throughout history, hope and inner tranquility are the two strong desires of every Kings.”

And once again, Tiberius bowed down his head, and in that position did they talk for hours more. At the end of their conversation, Augustus directed his nephew to stay with him for good and live with him in his palace next door to him.

Finally, Augustus dismissal of his nephew to retire for the night is definitive and he also notified his nephew the continuation of their broken in interrupted discussion the next day. For a moment, Tiberius was reluctant to leave, he wants to talk more for something he thought is important, but he was afraid to brace the subject. Then after a moment of hesitation, he finally found the audacity to spoke to his uncle like this:

—“My Lord, before we part ways, I want to intercede with you, a request for the pitiful person weeping in prison beside the Pontus Euxinus (Periplus of the Euxine sea). I am concerned about his loneliness despite the beauty of Rome, and the absolute lasting happiness and pleasure for satisfaction at “Via Appia.”

Augustus’s face turned dark from the delightful pleasing joy to an angry expression, as if thou wert, troubled with grimace had suddenly drove like a lightning rod and splashed his mild kind eyes. Then, with his wrinkled hand, he abruptly grabbed his nephew’s muscular forearms so tight, an unimaginable stronghold, with his body trembling, he looked at Tiberius eyes infused with death glare, then he spoke in a hoarse voice”

—“Publius Ovidius Naso, the traitor poet, instructive of immorality to young men in Rome, even if Apollo had granted him rich mind and creativity, he will still die confined in prison of Samartia; and don’t intercede ever again for him. Rome and its’ happiness had ended up with him.”

Augustus then, laid his hand down and forced to calm himself, he gave a head gesture to his nephew, permitting him to leave. Tiberius left the room without saying a word. The Emperor was left alone in the room, bewildered and in silence. His arms are folded to his chest, staring at a plank of timber, like Ovidio’s name was carved into this piece of wood, for this intelligent poet had awakened Augustus’s memories, recalling disappointing, horrible past.

Augustus is in this position when all of a sudden, a loud knock at his door, one after another. A lictor in haste barged at the entrance, coming in a hurry. The Emperor while in deep thoughts, had abruptly roused from his chair, surprised from this sudden interruption. The lictor had informed him of a woman from another land dredged with dusts, saying that she is from Delphi, struggling to get in the palace in this time of the night to speak directly to Augustus. The Emperor composed himself from hearing what the lictor had said.

—“What does she want from me?” The Caesar said.

—“She said, she came here to dialogue with you concerning Delphi’s oracles.” The lictor replied.

Hearing about Delphi’s oracles frightened Augustus, and his face turned pale as if in horror in an instant.

—“Did she tell you her name?” Augustus asked.

—“Yes! But we all laughed.” The lictor said. —“I think she is crazy. She says she is called “The Cumaean Sibyl.”

—“Open the door, open the door for her,” Augustus’s response in complete disarray, for this unexpected occurrence is happening quickly, his body was shaking in fear for this sudden experience that he would not soon forget.

—“The messenger of Delphi’s oracle? Let her in, let her in right away!”

The “Cumaean Sibyl” dressed in black, standing at the door, looking straight at the Emperor, she began to move, guided by her cane, limping as she walked towards the Emperor’s chamber, thumping across the floor, approaching Augustus. Eight “lictores’s” had entered the room along with the woman, they are holding Sarmiento branches or petrified woods, and they all stood beside the broad door, ready for their Lord’s command. The Sibyl came advancing, with her small steps, she eerily move forward and yet mysteriously gliding over at this time, until she reached two meters far from Augustus. The Caesar is terribly terrified, shaking uncontrollably this time while observing this cryptic, mysterious woman in front of him, watching her in intense fear.

—“You Augustus!” The Sibyl said, like her voice was coming from the grave. —“You are no longer the mighty King and a noble King here on earth, for your God is born in Juda in Bethlehem. This is Apollo’s final statement before he loses his power forever, and before he descends to the eternal flame of fire in hell!”

The Sibyl smashed the small metal rod she’s holding, then in an instant, the five vipers heads began to move in motion, as if it came back to life. A small parchment of paper was pulled from that metal rod by this mystifying woman, then she handed it to Augustus’s hand. Caesar is like being tormented, afflicted by his agonizing anguish as he reaches out for the paper from this dark delphic woman. Then he unrolled the small piece of paper, and in there was written three verses of poems, the final statement of Delphi’s oracle. Here’s what it says:

Me puer Hebrews,

Divus ipse gubernans

Cedere sede jubet.

Tritemque redire sub orcum,

Aris ergo lime

Tacitis obscedito nostris.

And if we are going to translate this into English, here’s what it means:

The Hebrew child

Gods of the gods and goddesses

He threw me out and expelled me from my temple;

He sent me to hell and back,

And so are you, men of dirt and dusts.

Please don’t come again, here at my altar,

Where most are aghast and dumbstruck!

(This Apollo talking)

Augustus was barely finishing his reading, when all of a sudden the “Cumaean Sibyl” raised her hand, pointing eastward and spoke, narrating these words:

—“From Israel is the daybreak of a bright divine light that will eliminate the darkness of this world. Oh! Those people, the gods and goddesses of Olympus! Oh! Those gods and goddesses of the heathens! Jesus forbade them to speak, and so they all fell from their proud pedestals, and they are all gone to hell!”

Augustus is trembling, the piece of paper restricted through his hand is crumpling up, he is shaking from the echoing sounds of the Sibyl’s voice. Large grains of sweat are rubbing Augustus’s forehead, and the Cumaean Sibyl continued to speak:

—“I have accomplished the Delphi’s oracles’ final instructions, and the god Atropos had cut-off my life’s thread!”

Then the mysterious woman shouts aloud, she grieve in a long lasting lamentation, then she let go off her cane, closes her eyes and collapses on the floor. Augustus was terrorized; he left the room immediately, and the intimidating fearsome poem is still cramped in his shaking hand. The lictore’s ran to assist the enigmatic woman, but there was nothing left except the skeleton in black clothing as soon as they reached her.

Caesar’s guards were taken aback, all were thrown into an uproar, screaming horribly, running away in disbelief, leaving the room.

While this is happening, Augustus is on his way to Herod’s room; without knocking, he barraged at the door, entered the room and not letting Herod to greet him. The Idumean saw the coming Emperor seemingly anxious, and he was surprised by the abrupt appearance of the Caesar. Augustus went straight and sat down to those large pillows ostensibly worried and afraid.

—“Tell me,” the Emperor said, not giving Herod a chance to welcome him. —“Did you hear about that mighty King, the new God of the gods and goddesses where the oracles are saying that He was born in Bethlehem in Juda?”

Herod was astounded by the Caesar’s question, but after regaining his ease from the shocking question, he relates all the events that happened to Augustus, all the phenomenon that had occurred; the Chaldeans visitations in Jerusalem, all the rumors and news that swirls around the Hebrew town concerning the Messiah’s birth! And the Rabbis and teachers dispute regarding Daniel’s prophecies for envy.

The Emperor was fascinated from hearing all the Idumean’s enchanting stories with respect to this newborn King that created a big commotions in all the Hebrew people, but after a few seconds, he spoke like this:

—“You’re leaving tomorrow; can you make it happen to please find that child for me? That Jesus prophesied by the Prophets and sent him to me, here in Rome with escorts, heavily guarded like a powerful King; I want him to enter the “Triumphal Way,” riding my golden chariot. I want to offer him the pride of victory!”

Herod did promise to find the child and was eager to keep Caesar’s orders.

After a few more moments, Augustus was leaving the Idumean’s room and into his room. As he lay on his bed, he was apprehensive and feverish from the extreme tension he experienced; the crumpled small parchment of paper was still confined to his hand, with the written commandments of Delphi’s oracles. Outside the hallway was the lictor coming into sight rushing towards the Emperor’s room, he blasted the door, pale and frightened. He entered the room and inform Augustus the “Cumaean Sibyl’s death.

—“So therefore,” Augustus responded. —“Bury the corpse to the hollowed pit next to the rampart’s wall and don’t disturb me anymore; I want to be left alone.”

—“My Lord,” the once again lictor’s explanation, with his voice shaking, panicky and nervous over the Caesar’s strict command. —“She is no longer a corpse but a skeleton.”

—“Therefore, bury the skeleton!” The irritated response of the Caesar.

Augustus’s adherents were even troubled to carry out his orders, but they still went and left the room. But returning to the chamber’s room is more surprising for the guards to find the skeleton disappeared, and nowhere to be found. She was never seen to where they left her.

IMAGINATION

Without haste, the warm setting sun is slowly fading on the other side of the bluish mountain where Jupiter’s Temple is standing prominently. Its’ forests, where they revere to worship Julio as god is bringing forth pure fresh air, causing the laurels to generate a vital process of swaying the leaves back and forth, conveying the aromatic scent of sweet perfume carried by the gentle wind in the pleasurable mild heat of the setting sun. The violets began to break each cores in every flowers, standing in their prestigious stature looking up to heaven, while the beautiful magnolia, the flower from India are subtle in color yet strong in appearance, with each buds in luminous ivory color are encompassing its’ gentleness, bowing its’ heads down to the ground. The green Palm trees and Pines are laying out their cool shades in the east side, ready to welcome the coming darkness of the night. The Nightingale’s are hiding, concealing themselves from the luxurious bushes, shaking their tiny wings, wiggling their capricious fickle tails, waiting to be petted, caressed by the gentle wind for the coming dark hours, offering their sweet songs to God Almighty throughout the night.

The shepherds are delivering their meek lamb into their designated corrals, and the diligent farmers are soaked with their hard working perspiration, with specks of dust covered their faces, they are on the cheerful mode on the way home riding the firm back of their cows.

From the highlanders are the Albanian women, surrounded by their beautiful children, sitting under their miserly roofs, inside their huts, singing joyfully with their lovely songs, signifying the coming night, the time for their husband’s to come back home from work. The ship crew stationed in Tiber city are rolling up the canvas of their tents that protects them from the sun’s heat throughout the day. The lively swallows are happily flying around the towering posts where the ship crew ties their sails. From afar, up in the sky will fall to notice a layout in tin color, twinkling in an incredible sight, covered with opal clouds, is where the prestigious Rome stands, the city where its’ name overwhelmed the world, and made some parts of the world a just province. There are approximately hundreds of heathen Temples standing proud in the center of its’ town, showing off its’ dazzling, sparkling shines, bathe with magnificent shimmering light, glistening every day. The tranquility and vanities for admiration weakened the strong arms of their soldiers. The supreme goddesses of Venus (Bhavani) that’s holding strong minds, and with great courage, were put into sleep.

The “Via Appia” they called or the road built by Appius, had become a one bazaar of love and courtship. In such a place can a soldier become a glutton, a party goer, and overindulge themselves through alcohol of intoxication. The poets poems can replace their weapons of destructions, and the sweet perfumes from their shields. This became the famous place for pleasures and past times for the wealthy, the Rome’s Monsieur, the true nests for entertainment and the slaves for fashion in Augustus time. Let us stop first, and let us spend time in this place for a while.

If Appius Claudius Crassus, a Roman Censor, rises from his grave in Augustus time, he may never recognize the 400 years old road he built. It is not the same road anymore, where used to be the passageway for valuable things from Asia and Africa; it is now one of the most affluent town in Rome. In its’ field lined up the magnificent vacation houses, a well built gorgeous palaces, where great graveyards are enhanced, and the proud Mausoleum is aggrandized into an exquisite and impressive burial chamber. The dead’s peaceful sleep, the highly regarded gravels, and the respected cold marbles covering the tombs are ignored by the flirtatious and playful youths. The esteemed Roman statesman, Marcus Tullius Cicero, once states from one of his orations: “The gods and goddesses of Homer turned out to be dumb ever since the humans lost their confidence on them and are no longer consulting them.”

Days gone by in time, and Rome slowly began to mock and ridicule their gods and goddesses. The “Via Appia” way became the marketplace of pleasure and comfort for entertainment. The living are sitting on top of the dead’s ashes, and are talking about love and friendships. The cold stone benches surrounding Scipio’s tomb is not once became like a poet’s school, taught to young men by Publius Ovidius Naso, a poet of love known as the “Ars Amatoria,” (the art of love or sexual love). Women from high societies are dating and meeting men at Appio’s tomb’s bedrock. But before sitting at those semi precious stone benches adorned with golden brocades, they will cover first with their impressive tedious colored hankies, their sitting spots.

This is the place where they wait for their lovers and sweethearts, hangin’ at Marte’s camp, evoking their interests to make their eyes captivating, dreamy and tantalizing. As they are fanning their fan wings to freshens’ the air, they are audibly scenting bottle of sweet perfumes, while laying their heads on a marble tomb. In the meantime, the young lads are strolling through “Via Appia” way riding their horses coming from their nearby towns of Albania, approaching Roman’s fort. Their rowdy, speedy horses from Numidia doesn’t have any problem disturbing the dead’s peaceful rest as they arrive at the graveyard. Cupid pushes their hearts to Venus, exerts force’s to someone’s heart for love is forever selfish. distinguishing hopes from happiness because sweet dreams for affections are lost and forgotten. The “Via Appia” way, is a remarkable place, a trend-setter, where it deliberately causes them to meet at Augustus court to talk about fashions, debating about the pomade’s greasy substance for fashionable stylish hair, or the distinctive aromas of sweet scent perfumes. An exchange analysis of how to beautify the skin and make it supple and soft–discussing the tunic’s width, the weight of the rings, scarves dimensions, and the style for a fashionable shoes. There’s a heated debate for hairstyles, and the beards length, will it be long or short.

In “Via Appia’s” way are the fast chariots made of wicker, and seen running in different directions. Additional classical style of chariots cruising around, are hauled by three horses, adorned with leather, woven with fine leopard skin, and the wheels are clasped with silver. Chariots from France can also be seen roaming around with super quality wheels, with its’ seats embellished with royal purple silk, a scarlet color, especially made for the Patricians, the aristocrats. Here, the matrons or the household mothers sits like an icon, wrapped with their scarlet scarves softly flowing in the air, their long silky hankies are waving in the wind’s natural movement, dragging them to the ground, showing their chubby round arms filled with bracelets. These noble women were deliberately showing off their diamond glittering crowns as they climbed down the stairs of their chariots, where their tiny feet are bare, adorned with tears of Chios (mastic) and violets. Their slaves will immediately spread their long hankies made in France, as they climbed down the stairs, avoiding the dirty, dusty ground. Walking through those shy mimosa pudica of the Tiber, these noblewomen, the beautiful children of love and laziness, will take a few steps, then would lean their hands for support towards the gristly, stringy back of their slaves, displaying their delicate, dainty bodies, like these mistresses are requiring strength and are not able to walk by themselves. An indication of an affluent status in life.

As they sit at those decorated big pillows, prepared for them, these privileged mistresses with their soft, supple hands that mashes and squishes will play catch with their small amber balls. And with its’ accessory tools, these orange spheres will start to spin around as their slaves spray sweet scent perfumes around them to freshen the air.

What a lovely sight to see! People in public garden take pleasure of their surroundings, but Oh! Women are not the only ones who walk frail and delicate, but men too! Those once strong and courageous descendants of the world’s indignant are also seeking their canes to support their now exhausted, and drained energy. One of them is Maecenas, whom we already know. He can’t walk without the help of his two strong slaves beside him. But don’t be amazed if he join, and linger around the impressive meetings of the carefree, the philosopher’s easygoing appearance cloaked with his ruptured clothing. Maecenas watch and observe this philosopher’s conceited and prideful self with public shame, exhibiting his arrogance that’s been seen on earth since the beginning of time. Furthermore are the beggars begging for alms, delighted to mingle around the aristocrats, and the well-dressed noble people scented with their pleasant fragrances. But this kind of illusion, presented to them by the pretentious society, if observed with wisdom by the tattlers farmers, with their pathetic eyes can quickly fade and awaken the actual existence of their reality. They threw coins to the paupers, but they bashed the philosopher with their disdainful smile infused with mockery. After this, will their gaudy happiness diminish like clouds, where their blind gods pushed them to neglect their souls, to gain earth’s satisfaction offered and granted to them to its’ full absolute.

In this situation, will Rome’s good people in high society thus allowed two hours to finally let the sunset completely submerged behind the mountainous west. Allowing their Kingdom to position itself through the night’s governing power, spreading the dark, mournful blanket of the night, spreading smoothly on top of the graves, and to the “Via Appia’s” stunning palaces. When this happens, and as the night falls, subduing the “Via Appia’s” way, the street becomes more like a deserted road, empty and clean.

And once again, the hollowed, deserted Rome will take its’ happy children back to their nesting grounds, in their villages and in their towns. But for some citizens, festivity and merriment are not done yet, for the night is just beginning to unfurl its’ charm. Throughout the night, in Tiber’s city are the clowns from Greece, the dancers from Cadiz Spain, those Gladiators from Africa, the comical Pilde, and Batilo the comedian. The pythons, lions, tigers, leopards, and elephants arriving daily in Rome’s town to entertain the wolve’s lazy children of the fortunate.

The Rome’s successful Emperor, Augustus Octaviano, made a decision to liquefies all his dish wares, with nothing left except the one glass he inherited from his Uncle Julius Caesar, and the 150 million sestertii. He used the money to build theaters, racehorses, and the road called “Via Flaminia.” Augustus sought, and desired to see his country happy and fortunate. This intelligent Emperor, did not have obstacles from any opposition to fulfill and accomplish his wishes. But let us not be so enthusiastic from entering Rome so fast, and let’s stop here for a while in this road called, “Via Appia” way.

The clean and clear night sky, without a trace of clouds hovering around, is divinely calm. As this brilliant and radiant moon continues to ascent in the cloudless night sky, its’ splendor and bright silvery rays are scattering towards the deserted graves, and to the magnificent palaces in “Via Appia” way, where it became a renowned tourist attraction for quite a long time. The incredible complexity of the palaces, built for intricate beauty and inherent value are admired for its’ enchanting elegance.

A woman or perhaps a ghost in a woman shape, is walking gently, taking her small steps to Rome. Her long reddish hair flows softly of her shoulder in the cool night breeze; she is wearing a long black tunic, swiftly caressing her foot as she slowly steps forward. A belt made of steel tightens her waist, her only clothing as she moves inch by inch towards the cold, ghastly night. Crowning her head is the intertwined dead dry leaves, and on her right hand is a cane made of juniper wood, she’s pressing against it for balance. On her left hand is a cut-off rod made of copper, and at the rod’s cut-off end shows five tiny vipers heads. She is treading on, physically exhausted and bone-weary.

She stops for a while, standing still, and from the distance can be viewed her brownish face struck by the moon’s lugubrious light, reflecting her beautiful face but with wild fury. Her eyes are black like the blackest of night, gloomy like remorseful, a restless eyes entombed upon the pit of her eye socket, where she disperses her unceasing, hateful stares that gives warning. Her forehead is broad and proud, her thick lips are red, like a living blood, breathing, quivering in its’ emptiness, her nose is prominent, and in fine shape, giving a sad but a shocking facial appearance.

It is hard to speculate the woman’s age, as she moves slowly in the depth of night, taking her small steps, towards the “Via Appia’s” graveyard. She would lift her eyes once in a while to heaven, opening her lips crying out for vengeance, an intense rage from her chest, releasing her burning anger from within. But after a few seconds her prideful conceit will vanish, like a mysterious force is in command, and punishing her. Then all of a sudden, a loud outcry, a blast of remorse, a gnawing distress is arising from her senses of guilt, then bowing her forehead to the ground, she whispers these words:

—“Oh! gods and goddesses of Gomer from Olympus! Oh! The city’s prophetess of Tiber! The wavy lake of Styx, the Sphinx in Giza, had fallen from its’ pedestal, swallowed by the desert sand. Wretched are we who can’t sit on top of Delphi’s Temple.”

After this, a sad lamentation, the mystical woman had pulled a deep sigh from her chest, then continue to walk. In the same manner had she finally reached the lonely grave, alone beside the road. She walks around this lonely grave, glaring furiously at the tomb, holding the attention as if by a spell, then she sat at the stone bench, and pressed her forehead on the cold marble grave. Suddenly, an intense energetic force touches the grave, and it quickly tremble from within. The distinct touch of this mysterious woman from another land is quite different in nature, the interesting diligent woman with her pure and sad contemplation did not gone by unnoticed, for the ongoing occurrence of great wonders are seen. The deep woefulness of this enigmatic woman and her constant supplication awakened the deep sleep of this soul’s intellectual energy inside this cold marble grave. A deep cold voice coming from within, spoke to her like this:

—“Who is this, that with the power of sorrow and grief had come to disturb the peaceful sleep of death?”

—“It’s me,” the woman replied, as she quickly stood up at the same time, stunned from the voice coming out from within the grave.

—“And who are you?” The voice once more asked.

—“I am from another land, from the hollowed navel of this world, I left behind the sea of Corinth. I am now on foot looking for the proud Rome.” The woman said.

—“So therefore, you are from Greece?” The voice said.

—“I am from Delphi,” the mysterious woman replied.

—“Have you seen Apollo’s oracle? You must have visited the Muse’s Temple?” The voice asked.

—“Yes! But who are you talking to me from the pit of that grave?” The woman’s courageous question.

—“The moon’s powerful silver rays are trancing its’ light across my grave, reflecting the letters on my tombstone. Read it if you know how to read,” the voice replied.

The foreign woman did not hesitate to step in a few strides backwards, to look at what is in the tombstone. Then she read the letters embedded in that cold marble grave. The letters are written in the following words:

“TRAVELERS.

STOP FROM WALKING AND PAY TRIBUTE, TO THE REMAINING ASH OF THE CENSOR, APPIO CLAUDIO CRASSO.

HE HAD THIS ROAD BUILT, WHERE YOU’RE STANDING AT.

AND HE IS ALSO THE ONE WHO HAD BUILT THE WATER GRID THEY CALLED, “THE APPIAN WATER,” FOR ROME’S GRATIFICATION.

THEY BUILT THIS GRAVE IN HIS HONOR, GOODBYE!

YOU SHOULD BE THANKFUL!”

—So, you are Appio the Censor, the one who wrote the well-renowned law, known and called, “The Law of the Twelve Tables?” The astonished woman asked.

—“Do you know if the Romans still obey those commandments?” The voice asked.

—“It is still shown, hanging in the Capitol’s wall until now; your colleagues had those commandments printed in two golden boards.” The woman replied.

—“What year are we in now since Rome was built?” The voice asked once again.

—“We are in the year 752.”

—“So therefore, I am resting now in this grave for 400 years?” The voice said.

—“He is indeed correct!” The woman confirmed.

—“Who is ruling the Roman Republic now?” The more curious voice asked.

—“Well! Rome is no longer a Republic,” the woman’s soft reply.

—“And what do they have now?”

—“Rome is now the Imperial!” The woman said.

—“And the Patrician’s allowed that?” The voice questioned.

—“Of course! For Octaviano Augustus is the Lord and the World’s Emperor!” The woman said.

The grave’s voice ceased for a second, then resumed and talked again like this:

—“Who art thou, who can awaken my ashes and gave my soul a voice? You are blessed and fortunate enough to be the gods and goddesses descendants!”

—“I am they called the Cumaean Sibyl.” The woman points out.

—“The Cumaean Sibyl, the Sibyl of the proud Lucius Tarquinius Superbus? (King). Who came to Rome while rebuilding, digging extensive excavations to erect the Capitol building on top of Tarpeian rock, the former marketplace where they sell the Sibylline books?” The voice decipher.

—“That’s it!”

—“How did you able to gain an extensive long life, and fortunate enough to live in your old age. Does the Parcae did not cut up your life’s thread sooner?” The voice questioned.

—“Yes! I already died,” the woman replied. —“The old Charon had ferried my soul across the river Styx; I visited the cave of death, and I saw three Parcae’s. I saw the god Lahkesis, and burgeoning on her fingers are thousands of fibers, each is the measurement of every human lives lifespan. Next is the god Clotho, who has the authority to decide the human fate, holding the threads of life forever to pick their selected thread from his spinning distaff, an ominous warning for the human’s darkened or hopeful destiny. The goddess Atropas, with tens of her untiring diamond scissors, can decide to choose the humans manner of death and end it by cutting the mortals thread of life. And my unfortunate thread of life had also fell into her unmerciful scissor.”

—“Then why do I hear your voice, if you’ve been dead for quite a long time now?” The voice asked.

—“Oh!” The Sibyl answered while her tears bursts into a sad mourning. —“Themis, the Titan goddess of the divine law and order, commands the Parcae’s daughters to re-attach my life’s string for only a few days, for I am the one to deliver Delphi’s oracles, the last request for the god Apollo, who no longer responding to people’s queries, asking for his advice.

The gods and goddesses of the heathens are shaking, falling, and are pulled from their pedestals, running in haste, to escape and hide in the cave of god Pluto. There, they wept bitterly because they lost their power for the rest of their lives.

The Titans from Mount Caucasus, the proud Prometheus, the god of thieves, had a reputation for being a clever tricksters. He is famous for giving humanity the gift of creating fire and the skills to construct metalworks. For his aggressive action, he was punished by Zeus, who was outraged by Prometheus’s intrusive act, from stealing the fire. The Titan Zeus gave Prometheus eternal punishment by having him taken to the far east of Mount Caucasus. Here, they bound Prometheus into a rock tightly tied by a diamond chain, Zeus then, sent a crow with insatiable appetite to eat Prometheus’s immortal liver. To worsen it, the liver re-grow every night, and the crow returns each day to torment Prometheus endlessly.

Jupiter, King of the gods and humans is restless in his Throne of Ivory, he accidentally dropped the scepter he’s holding, and the lightning burnt his forehead, the eagle folded his wings, and beautiful Hebe, the goddess of youth, cried out incessantly at his foot.

Juno, the goddess of love and marriage, Jupiter’s wife with their children doesn’t want anymore to hear newlyweds’ prayers. Hebe is turning her eyes away from the mothers giving birth to their firstborn child. Minerva, the goddess of wisdom, folded and closed her book of wisdom, and knowledge. Vesta, the virgin goddess of hearth, home, and family was terrified to see her dear light dedicated for her is flickering, and it did went off.

Pallas, the Titan god of the battle and war craft, had his shield destroyed and broken into three pieces. Ceres, with her crown made of buds from plants are coiled around her head, did quickly dried out in no time upon her forehead.

Venus, daughter of love and beauty, is weeping for her beloved Cupid Eros, because of his unfaithfulness. Rhea, the Greek goddess, mother of the gods, had seen the death of her Lions that pulled her chariots, followed by the fall of her tower crown.

Saturn, the god of sowing, with Ouroboros, the snake in his left hand, the eternal cycle of destruction and recreation is no longer a tail-eating serpent, and he is no longer holding a sickle in his right hand.

Diana, a goddess, is primarily considered a countryside’s patroness, the moon goddess, and the hunters goddess, is walking briskly in the forest, sad and lonely, because her bow and arrow are not capable any longer of inflicting severe wounds towards the wild beasts.

Mercury, god of messages and communications had his wings taken out from his head, and he dropped the small pouch he’s holding from his hand.

Marte, the god of war, is defeated by his own fear, while the gorgeous hair of Apollo had turned white overnight, and his resounding lyre had deteriorated. The nine Muses, daughters of Jupiter and Mnemosyne, are running around the mountain of Piraeus, Helicon, and Parnassus, with their uncontrollable wailing, they are crying in pain.”

—“Stop it! Stop it! Ghost from the earth’s darkest pit, the soul from hell, who came with your disgusting words, disturbing the dead’s peaceful sleep!” The voice’s powerful supplication from the grave. —“You have to go now! Let me rest in peace inside this cold marble grave, where my ashes are hidden, and do not rejoice in telling me the fall of the gods and goddesses of Olympus!”

The woman from another land stood up, then she draws a deep sigh from her chest, saddened. Then she began to walk tracing the road to Rome, mumbling to herself the following words:

—“Rest in peace Appio, but if you find your soul wandering around the firmament, up in the sky, the space between heaven and earth, searching, not knowing where to find the grace for forgiveness, which cannot be granted to you by the gods and goddesses of the heathens…………….go to Israel, the promised land. For there, was born the True God, the world’s Savior, the Messiah, prophesied by the Prophets.”

—“And what is the name of that God?” The voice coming from the grave asked.

—“His name is JESUS! He is the Redeemer of the world.” The woman replied.

Then a loud outcry bursts out from inside the grave, a sorrowful lamentation, and the moon’s melancholic light hide behind the bluish, purple clouds, casting its’ gloomy light in its mournful passion in that ghoulish, frightful night. Aesculapius statue, the god of healing, standing on top of Appius Claudius Crassus’s grave fell down the ground, and broke into pieces. The marble grave trembled, and the Cumaean Sibyl bowed her head down to the ground, her body is pressed against the cane she’s holding, then she stood up and began to walk. Tracing the road to Rome, she cried out loud, speaking the following words:

—“Oh! The gods and goddesses of Gomer in Olympus. Oh! The foretellers and the soothsayers of Tiber city! The raging river of Styx, the Sphinx of Giza, all fell from their pedestals, swallowed by the desert dunes. Miserable are we, who cannot sit at the top of Delphi’s Temple, for the True God is born in Israel to redeem the world! The Savior of the human race came down to earth to destroy what the heathens worship! The unbaptized and the pagans!”

OCTAVIANO AUGUSTUS

—“Long live Cesar!” The simultaneous greetings of Agrippa and Maecenas.

—“So is my desire to my gracious rulers.” Cesar replied. (Maecenas became the governing ruler of Rome and Italy during war time).

—“Oh! This pain of mine, my powerful Augusto, is like a crybaby, a restless child here inside my body.” Maecenas replied and urge to sit down.

While Cesar sits beside Agrippa, without any reason to justify his course of action, for distancing himself from Maecenas.

—“You know my son-in-law,” Augustus said to Agrippa, —“this morning, my daughter Julia, your wife, were so furious at me; she thought that I am taking you away from her. The unhappy girl is throwing a temper tantrum at me, she is not aware that we are already in trouble, having difficulties in putting all the writings of our beloved friends, Horatius, and Virgilio’s works, organizing them one at time. We have to systematically arrange them to elevate and enrich an outstanding library in Greek and in Latin, exceptional for Apollo’s Temple’s bookshelves.”

—“It is indeed, one of the reason why many amongst women are seeking attention from their capricious well-being without realizing the need to sacrifice a little of their time for people’s benefit!” The soft reply of Maecenas.

—“They are definitely obsessed for asking men’s attention, and set aside ourselves. Focus our eyes only for them, to be the first, and the only one for us.” Third by Agrippa.

—“Let women do their stead. I have something more important to say.” Cesar said.

The Emperor’s two friends paid attention to Cesar, showing their interests by listening to this important news with certainty and understanding.

—“Our beloved friend Gaius Calpernius Piso,” Augustus continues, —“the city prefect, is finishing his works and he’d able to gather thick books and all the writings of Cumaean Sibyl. These books are available starting tomorrow and could be read at the Octavian Library for people attending the performing arts in Marcellus Theater.”

—“May god Lares grant me a long life, so that I may see our effort in this work, achieved its’ purpose and see the rewarding result.” Maecenas said.

—“So, therefore, let’s go back to work.” The Emperor said.

Augustus, Maecenas and Agrippa, immediately went back to work, assessing thick books, opening and filtering every pages, inspecting the contents, organizing them one by one on the shelves and in orders according to their apportionment. With guidance in each chapter, recorded and noted in a long piece of paper spreads out, laying on the table.

The three friends dedicated their whole day, taking their cherished time, arranging and organizing various books. They search for valuable stories, enriching the enhanced and desirable quality of the refined wisdom necessary to manifest the complete harmonious development of understanding. The featured library has two divisions to embellish the decorative details of the institution established by Augustus.

Once in a while, this polite Emperor would throw a glance to his friend Maecenas, emaciated and pale for being sick, then would meet Agrippa’s eyes, giving a serious look. Both would shake their heads together like doctors losing their hope from their ill patient to live.

Octaviano Augustus would keep his mouth closed when talking about his friends, Horatius, Virgilio, Maecenas, and Agrippa. But he would usually mention this instead:

—“My friends’ deaths are the biggest blow that I could receive in life.”

Heaven forbid, but God must have heard him and let his four friends die first than Augustus. The death of his two beloved poets brought forth a terrible distressing pain, so whenever he look at the poems written by the said poets, his tears would trickle down his cheeks.

After sometimes, his two friends died too, the angel of death had taken from him Maecenas and Agrippa. His two friends who gave him most valuable advice in his reign. Their passing away had given him bitter lamentation and excessive pain that he let his beard grew long. He avoided socializing with people, and in the last years of his life, he spent teaching his nephew, Tiberius Cesar Augustus about his responsibilities as a good King.

While these noble people are preoccupied managing and caring ancient writings, they meet everyday to systematically enhance valuable books to put them in order. Organizing every classification, sorting. Herod on the other hand, is being followed by his noble escorts and countless slaves. He entered Rome at the “Via Triumphal” gate, after crossing the River Tiber by Janiculum bridge. The Idumean arrived in the Capitol city, called by the Emperor to defend himself against the accusation, a serious crime formally presented to him by his children. Herod was riding a horse, a recognized breed from Syria; on his right side is Mario, his lawyer also riding the horse, and on his left side is his slave Cingo. Behind him are his slaves well-dressed, while in their midst is a compartment, a sleeping berth (litera), covered with gold, and the staves (varas) are silver. Next comes Paulo Atme, leading and supporting the three ranks Roman cavalries, and the last of these cavalcade are flocks of strong mules, carrying loads of awning tents, and a few gifts for the Emperor from this Palestine King that pays taxes.

By the time Cesar Augustus’ return to his home, he found out that Herod had already been there antecedently with tens of his escorts waiting for him at the Palace’s wide door. Humble and modest, powerful Octaviano is simply walking, wearing ordinary clothing, like a typical citizen of the Republic. Truly far from the proud and flashy Herod, the King who pays taxes and the first Roman slave.

Augustus received Herod filled with graciousness, his usual practice, and even invited Herod to stay with him in his palace. The coarse and proud Idumean with his claimed crown paid by the taxpayers, and who are in great debt of gratitude from Mark Anthony, had immediately forgotten the person he owed from helping him gain to reach his status of a King.

Since Augustus rise as the world’s Emperor, after his triumph from the battle of Actium, (he fought between the fleet of Octavian and the combined fleet of Mark Anthony and Queen Cleopatra of Egypt, the Roman Republic’s last war), Herod won Julius Cesar’s nephew’s approval by pleading and bribing him with power of money, and the flatteries he had given to further his own interests. He imitated Aristobulus II, King of Jerusalem, with his countless money and had even sent acres of gold to Pompey, who defeated him (Aristobulus).

Herod, the Escalonite, desires the world’s Emperor to take his side in a dispute brought up by his children. In knowing Roman’s insatiable appetite for money, Herod sent in advance numerous gifts for the magistrate (Judge). But the gift for the Cesar, is an excellent piece, created by the skillful silversmith, a great value of a refined white pearls combined with black pearls and with some copper-colored pearls, made in the illustration, depicting the marvelous ripening grapes.

Being passive and clever, Herod did not forget to bring two boxes, filled with Hebrew books from Jerusalem, selected and picked explicitly for Cesar’s library. His gifts were highly appreciated and humbly acknowledged by Augustus.

Early the next day, while Herod’s in Rome staying at Cesar’s palace, he asked the Emperor’s permission to show him his gifts for the Cesar, to honor and to give value to all the favors he brought, and to please the Emperor. Favored by the Cesar, Herod entered the room and greeted the Emperor:

—“Noble Cesar,” Herod said. —“I brought you these taxed pearls from Juda to add it in your acres of gold from Aristobulus, which I am pleased and my pleasure to present to you, and for Rome to see these vineyards of grapes from Judea, fruitful and abounding from Herod’s hand, your slave.”

Augustus was astonished by Herod’s gift. He admired Herod’s marvelous gifts, his thoughtfulness for treating people in a most delightful way. Since then, Augustus, a modest and a fair Emperor had granted Herod the “father’s right” to his children. From the fourth commandment of the “law of the twelve tables” which terrified him and gave him the hair raising goosebumps from the back of his neck, and this broke him into pieces. Herod’s arrival in Rome, to defend himself from his children’s accusations were acknowledged by Filippo and Aristobulus, his two sons. (The readers should know too that Herod had a son named Aristobulus). They were informed about their father’s arrival and they made a careful preparations for their case to be brought to court. Mario, Herod’s lawyer, was one of the best advocates at that time. A famed man of great intelligence, with his dynamic words, is quick in sharp replies. He has the capabilities to alter a notorious criminal to come out as a hero, meek and wretched on earth. He defended Herod with his full wisdom and intense sharpness. His skilled expertise made the court of law to look at Herod like an honorable person, and the murdered wife is evil, a dangerous woman, and an unfaithful wife. The Hebrew law allows the wife’s execution for forgetting her obligations to her husband. So later on, Herod was acquitted after twenty days of legal proceedings where the court had tried the lawyer’s expertise. In Augustus’ command and his desire to respect the “Law of the Twelve Tables,” the court of law has appointed to leave the entire matter to Herod and let him do just as he pleases, everything he desires to inflict punishments for his children’s disobedience.

Having given that power to Herod, is an awareness of judgement to his two son’s execution, Filippo and Aristobulus, similar to what we will see later on at the end of the story.

While this is happening, Paulo Atme, on the other hand, is not wasting his time, going to Marte’s camp everyday, looking for people who are not afraid to take chances to venture and attain the dangerous tasks. He would usually gathers them for meetings, planning to carry out his and Antipater’s plot, the strategic attack they are about to accomplish.

Cingo, likewise, Herod’s slave, is faithful to his duty, to keep an ever-closer eye to the Roman’s every move. Unknown to Paulo, the negro is in full tactical shrewdness, cunningly deceiving them. Through all Cingo’s seductive powers, he convinced Paulo that he too is angry and hated Herod; thus, Paulo did not hesitate to hold back in declaring to Cingo their planned coup.

Paulo Atme made a mistake in giving his complete confidence, for trusting Cingo, and this destroyed their plan.

Herod is getting ready to leave to return to Jerusalem, and Cesar sets the date in advance, Herod’s departure. The first day of June was the start of his journey, and Paulo was again selected to lead the escorts to transport the King that pays taxes. Four “galley’s” (Roman vessels promenading by the slaves’ paddlers) are waiting at the Cavita-Vecchia’s port to escort them to the edge of Cesarea. On the night of the departure, Augustus, with his friendly and harmonious manners, ordered Herod and his children to join him and have dinner with him, believing that in this way, the father and son’s relationships can wipe away their bitter indignations from each other.

Throughout their dinner, Herod displayed courtesy, showing politeness with loving-kindness and tolerance to his children, but this contrasts his will. After the family gatherings, Herod asked Augustus a secret meeting between them alone. So Augustus granted his request, and off they went to the Historical room, the library.

As the two were left alone in the room, Herod pulled a piece of parchment hidden in his crinkled garment, then handed it to Cesar.

—“What is the meaning of this?” Octaviano asked, while staring at the document presented to him by Herod.

But before the Idumean could respond, Cesar’s quick alertness made him continue immediately to speak in his hoarse voice:

—“Ah! Therefore, there are people in my monarchy that dared to oppose my arrangements in rules and regulations? If that is so, then these rebellious Marte’s children, with the profound trust and compassion I showed to them, are even planning to conspire against the King I am supporting? Good Herod…………….good! I am so grateful for what you discovered, for giving honor to the truth. This task belongs to Gaius Calpurnius Piso; he is the Prefect General of this city and not yours, for you are not from here.

—“The name Cingo from that list should not be punished along with them.” Herod said. —“For that, Cingo is my beloved slave, and for thousands of times, this person has been tried and would rather take his life for me. Aside from this, he had done no evil deeds against me, but instead, he accomplished all of my commands. He even suspected that from Jericho, he noticed that my son Antipater and Paulo Atme had allied to conspire against me. So, I ordered my slave to stay focus and not to turn his eyes away from Paulo while I am traveling, and the whole time I am living in Tiber’s city.”

—“With all these rebellious plots against my friend Herod,” Augustus responded, —“Kings like me don’t want to see bloodshed, and I am punishing no one, except these warring rulers. The bloodthirsty Kings are like greedy beasts and should be crushed by their people like the venomous snake.”

Augustus knows the Idumean’s brutality, and so he stressed out the last of his statement in an unbridled talk at one extreme sentence. Filled with cowardice, dastardly Herod bowed down his head after Augustus expressed his summed up words. Then the Cesar went near the door and opened it, calling one of his soldiers walking around the lobby; he whispered in his ears, giving him the instructions supplied.

After an hour, the door open again to let the two Romans inside the room. One of them is Paulo Atme, and the other one is an older man dressed as a Centurion.

Augustus observed Paulo’s nervous pale face for a while, and then he handed the parchment that Herod gave him, saying:

—“For the sake of the Capitol’s gods and goddesses, for your parent’s reputation, and in honor of that eagle you are wearing, decorating you, a sign of your higher level of achievements, an accomplishment for leading an army. I asked you to tell me if what is written in that parchment is true?”

—“It is true Cesar,” Paulo answered.

—“Only Augusto is the only one that can build an army in Rome.” Cesar’s response with his voice shaking.

—“I am the only one who has the power to grant crowns to the deserving throughout the territories that is under my jurisdiction. You have failed the law, and so you need to die like a true soldier.”

And having said this, Augustus pulled the sword hanging from Paulo’s belt and handed him the handle and said these words at the same time, saying:

—“Take this!”

Paulo did not wait to repeat the orders; he could not think, for he knows what the Cesar means by handing him his own sword. Bearing one exceptional courage, Paulo stabbed his chest instantly and fell to the ground, bathe with his own blood.

—“In that manner, a rebellious traitor should die for threatening the life of a King I adopted here in my palace.” Augustus continued statement, then gave Paulo a sullen look and turned his back from him.

Augustus saw that Herod and the old Centurion are the ones who witnessed this gruesome scene. Still Cesar cleared away the disturbing emotional incident by meeting the Roman soldier face to face and continue to speak, saying:

—“You my loyal Antonio, you will escort the King to Jerusalem, and you will obey his orders like mine. Prepare now, for tomorrow morning before sunshine and before the morning star shines, you should be in Tiber’s port with your armies.”

Then he dealt with Herod, facing him saying:

—“You can trust him, for he is my long-standing soldier, faithful and true to his duties and obligations. He was forever with me, fated amid life’s battle in Egypt.”

After a few moments, Paulo’s body was taken and buried by the “lictors.”

CLEOPATRA’S TRIUMVIRATE AND THE COALITION OF THREE MEN HOLDING POWER

Before we enter the aforementioned Capitol city, the sovereign world’s Queen. Before we roam around wandering Rome’s streets, the world’s ruler, the treasure trove of dignities and knowledge. Before we stand, considering to have a good impression for being respectable in front of the Roman Emperor, Octavius Augustus. Perhaps my dear readers will allow me beforehand, reinstating the previous events unfolding Julius Caesar’s death, until the time towards Jesus Christ’s birth’s completion. The prominence of being finished!

Julius Caesar established the First Triumvirate, with Crassus (Grachuss) and Pompey, an informal alliance amongst three prominent politicians in the late Roman Republic: Gaius Julius Caesar, Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus, and Marcus Licinius Crassus.

Pompey was the greatest military leader; Crassus was mainly known for his fabulous wealth, which he acquired through intense land speculation. Both Pompey and Crassus also had extensive patronage networks. The alliance was cemented with the marriage of Pompey with Caesar’s daughter, Julia.

The constitution of the Roman Republic was a complex set of checks and balances designed to prevent a man from rising above the rest and creating a monarchy. Caesar, Pompey, and Crassus forged a secret alliance to bypass these constitutional obstacles in which they promised to use their respective influence to help each other.

They led their military forces around the world for their personal advantage, and for the Roman’s Republic’s extensive expansion. An endless aggressive attacks, invading and conquering countries and cities. But good fortune did not conform the selfish Crassus, because in Mesopotamia’s broad plain field, his forces were defeated by the Parthian’s Kings, his military forces were destroyed and tore apart. The Parthians brought Crassus into subjection, and upon learning Crassus’s greed for gold, they beheaded him and ordered to pour out boiling gold to his arms while mocking and saying:

—“We must satiate him now with burning gold since he was never satisfied when he was alive.”

The Parthians annihilated Crassus’s forces, and Italy accepted the defeat, lamenting and weeping in pain, enraged over this news.

The death of Crassus ended the First Triumvirate; Julius and Pompey were left face to face, opposing each other until finally, their relationship of solidarity had fallen apart. Irreparable and impossible to make amends, Julius decided to cry quits, abandoning the alliance, he left to invade Italy, heading to Gallia (France). While Pompey is in Rome, the two men were both determined to rule the Republic for their selfish desires. Both chose to battle, facing each other to who should win the Republic’s sovereignty. Overconcentrated in winning, furious Julius went in haste traveling the Alps, the highest mountain range lies entirely in Europe, where they came across this river called “Rubicon.” Crossing the river Rubicon, the troops encamped there for quite a while, then continue, heading to Italy.

Pompey heard the news of Caesar’s advancing troops to Rome for invasion. Pompey did not hesitate to hold back, he went in a hurry to meet Caesar’s forces. With Pompey’s Senator’s, including Cicero and Cato of Utica, the opposing troops clashed in an aggressive, barbarous battle in Macedonia’s spacious flat land. The battle of Pharsalus began; Roman blood flows through the field, a bloodshed from two quarreling armies, for both had forgotten from their raging, heated conflict, that they are brothers.

Caesar defeated Pompey, but the latter (Pompey) barely escaped. A mind blowing chance to swiftly get away, because of his horse’s quick wit, a raging scallion came to his rescue, reaching him from the seaside; he quickly jumped overboard, riding his horse, he managed to run away, pushed by the high wind, it expedited his rapid getaway, and fled to Ptolemaic Egypt. But in Egypt, Queen Cleopatra and her brother Ptolemy, beheaded Pompey, a sign of cowardice, lacking the courage to face the opposition. They send Pompey’s head to victorious Julius in a box, an act of surrendering to Julius Caesar.

Caesar’s sudden success defeating Pompey gave him the perception of his soft side to react, the excessive compassion to his enemies adherents to forgave them all. But Cato of Utica committed suicide from his own hands, for he presumed the probability of their fallen Republic could end up over Julius Caesar’s leadership.

Caesar received Pompey’s head soaked in blood, but he accepted it in an unforgettable way. Pompey is still his son-in-law and a friend, and so while not yet buried, Caesar wept over Pompey’s head. And for this, he had Ptolemy killed (Cleopatra’s brother).

Like Cornelius Sulla’s dictatorship for ten years, Julius Caesar entered Rome to become famous as a dictator. But Caesar knows how to project a game plan as a good politician; he created a relief program to hand out grains of wheats, and money for the poorest citizens of Rome. He produced spectacular shows of Gladiators, an armed men engaged to fight the opponents to death, a public entertainment for the ancient Romans. A man-made lake was created in Marte’s immense field for the purpose of a fantastic theatrical shows that causes mass migration. Tourists visited the place filled with joy to watch the fabulous exhibitions of battle ships, an impressive performance, driving the outstanding par excellence of a superb entertainment presented to them by the victorious Julius Caesar. The inhabitants did not recognize that their Republic has a Lord, but they later found out, and they called him “the divine.” They worship him like their god, and they are absolutely happy about that.

But the brave and honest Republicans from the oppositions are not satisfied with Julius Caesar’s leadership, and they are painfully aware, in their state of understanding the thought of the unjust surroundings. Brutus and Cassius, Pompey’s friends, are loyalists to the old Republic and desire to save their commonwealth by preparing the necessary battle against the dictator. Caesar’s friends informed him of the coming danger, lurking around him, but Caesar’s awareness is determined, to beholding the peaceful, and joyful state of the society, assuming that he is in full control of the Republic. He fully trusts the good things he had done to the country by recalling the forgiveness he bestowed upon his enemies and his wars of aggression that gave honor and glory to “Roman’s” name. For these, Julius Caesar was not daunting nor even alarmed for the coming exasperating circumstances.

Then, one night, in the darkest midst of Rome’s bluish sky, appeared a comet. Mark Anthony and Marcus Lepidus brought this to Caesar’s attention. They took him into a balcony and pointed out the wonderment of what they see in heaven, a warning for a coming disaster. The settlers came out to witness this astonishing phenomenon. The noise of the tumultuous crowds came into a commotion in public square causing to contend a great amount of discussion, debating of what could be the meaning of this comet’s symbolic appearance in heaven.

The night had passed, and the sun gave birth to a new day. Caesar is wearing a shawl in purple color, unarmed, while walking towards the Senate’s court room. Surrounded by his friends with his head bent down, he approaches the intersection, crossing through the porches, when he met hundreds of daggers swarming over him, round and about, roughly brought forth by the rebellious Senators. Caesar did not even flinch to turn back, he continue walking, ignoring the flying daggers towards him, refusing to acknowledge that sure death is coming, in denial to notice the sharp blades are fast approaching him. Until he felt the knives struck him all over, the impact of knives strokes him, causing an inflicting wounds that made him cringe and drawback. He was seriously wounded, then he slowly turned his head, and there he saw, his friend Brutus looking with malice at him. Caesar was devastated, his heart sunk in sadness, and then he spoke aloud, bade his tragic and last pathetic farewell:

—“Even you Brutus?” The heartbreaking words of Caesar.

Then he covered his head with his purple shawl like he doesn’t want to believe the betrayal of his beloved friend. Caesar fell to the ground stabbed to death, then he closed his eyes and pulled his last breath, heartbroken. He died at the foot of Pompey’s statue.

Mark Anthony, the rough and brave soldier, a friend of the unfortunate Julius Caesar, heard the shocking news of Caesar’s assassination. He was furious about this devastating news, and he traveled immediately to see and witness Julius’s murder site. Accompanied by Marcus Lepidus, the two were disgusted for what they learned, a bitter indignation for the unfair treatment of his funeral. They made an arrangements to take the dictator’s dead body to the plaza. The body was placed into a stratum case in ivory for the people to see. Their Lord’s fate, the person who foster’s them. Mark gave Caesar a spectacular funeral.

The whole city was enraged at their Lord’s death, and they despised the murderers, where all fled to Rome. Mark Anthony’s forces hunt down these killers, the group of Senators and their conspirators led by Marcus Brutus and Gaius Cassius. A new series of civil war broke out, the murderers fought the battle, but they were all defeated and died to this fight in the plain land of Philippi in Greece. Tullius Cicero, one of the conspirators, the intelligent lawyer, escaped. On his way, he boarded the ship where he was almost safe and secured, but because of his seasickness he left the ship and rode at the “litera,” a carriage cabin, and ran all the way home, his house is situated in the outskirts of town. Later on, he was found and arrested by Mark Anthony’s soldiers, he was beheaded across the so-called “The Tribunals of the Quintessential,” or “Tribuna de las Arengas.” Then they hanged his severed head at the Senate’s house for the scornful punishment of the merciless, and cruel Mark Anthony. This causes Rome to shed tears of sorrow and regret, for he was the last defender of the Roman Republic.

Mark Anthony and Marcus Lepidus overcame and defeated the traitors. Then went back to Rome.

In Rome, Mark Anthony and Marcus Lepidus met this just young man, almost twelve years of age in appearance, looking frail but with modest manners and amicably shy. Sickly and pallid, the left foot was lame. The young man was the late Caesar’s nephew, a chosen heir, Caesar’s adopted son; he formed the Second Triumvirate with Mark Anthony and Marcus Lepidus. But these two fierce soldiers looked at this young man varied with contempt, they feel that this person is beneath consideration, worthless and should not be taken seriously. Realizing that he was the heir, they later accepted him without paying attention to any kind of situation. They welcomed him to be the Third in their “Triumvirate.” The second group of Triumvirs ever to appear in Rome.

At the expense of this young man’s appearance, Mark and Lepidus’s acceptance for this frailty young man was taken as a joke. But this fragile young boy, which was simply like a violet, charming and elegant like a shy plant, sensitive to touch, was called Octaviano Augustus, which later became the “World’s Powerful Emperor.”

The second Triumvirate was formally recognized by the Senate. Their ventures began when they were assigned to hunt down the conspirators involved in Caesar’s assassination, especially Brutus and Cassius. The Triumvirs weaponized their soldiers and began to travel by foot, led by Mark and Octaviano, they took the route to Greece, where Brutus and Cassius formed the biggest organized military forces. Anthony and Octaviano defeated these forces, conducted victoriously in Philippi. Around this time, Anthony married Octaviano’s sister, Octavia.

While the battle is being carried on, Lepidus on the other hand was left behind in Rome. Through his cowardice, laziness and incompetence, he lacks the necessary skills to do something successful. He made an awful, embarrassing decisions, lacking common sense and perceptions, without having enough ability to determine the basic policies in governing a big country. For this Lepidus was expelled from the association, and in disagreements between Anthony and Octaviano, this caused a split between the remaining Triumvirs.

Defeating Caesar’s murderers, they divided the Republic between themselves. Anthony was assigned to Rome’s eastern provinces, the client Kingdom of Egypt, and was given the command to war against Parthia (Egypt). Therefore, Octavian forced Anthony to go to Egypt, taking half of the troops with him, while Octaviano return back to Rome.

Mark Anthony is brave but lazy, and labeled as the “great drunkard.” He also loves delicious food and good wines. However, being persuaded and succumbed to pressure, Anthony declined Octavian’s order to go to Egypt, for the need to get rest without any regard to any considerations. Later on, after indulging himself, Mark accepted Octavian’s persuasion for aggression to war with Egypt. Mark is a skillful soldier, excellent in strategies and known to his careful tactics in attacking and maneuvering forces. Battling the Nile is absolutely easy to this hero.

As Anthony sailed to Egypt to engage to his new responsibilities. he knew that a significant success against a foreign foe could strengthen his personal prestige and power. Rome’s immense territories urgently need to restructure the troops in the east; Queen Cleopatra on the other hand, was worried about her crown as Roman’s arrival is nearing. But instead of preparing to battle, she fought of winning the friendship of one’s Rome’s powerful man that could bring her relationship to the Republic.

Cleopatra rode her magnificent boat called “galleys” to meet Anthony’s ship across the ocean. Her sparkling boat traversing sea was stunningly ethereal, covered with gold and diamonds; the sails are violet in color, unfurled and smeared with crystallized quartz. Cleopatra was dressed as Aphrodite lying on a Grecian sofa, surrounded with big pillows wrapped in shimmering silk covers. Her canopy, embroidered with gold was cooling her splendid charm, giving her the shadiness of novelty, breathing the sweet smell of frankincense, fumigating its steaming vapors beside her in the middle of her encouraging lustful indolence. Surrounding her were forty tantalizing maidens, wearing extravagant dresses, ostentatiously adorned with quality of being noble, below royalty but had the formal aristocracy, a known Egypt’s nobility. Twelve young girls are around her, wearing the dress of love, a dress for special occasions, fanning her, and creating refreshing air.

The fascinating head decors of their Queen are glittering, generating trancing lights caused by the blowing stylish fans like wings. Pure, unadulterated air is constantly encircling this Majestic Queen, lavishly presenting a pleasing licentious sight.

Mark Anthony’s first glimpse of the Queen was enticing and desirable, he was caught off guard. Burst in, on her seductive charm, attracted by this Queen’s captivating beauteousness, he was absolutely beguiled by her seduction, Anthony’s eyes were like blinded by this goddess, an alluring nymph ready to welcome him to her lovely bosom.

Since then, graces of passionate love gushing forth from the arms of this dazzling Queen, and the blessings that came with it, she charmed and entrapped Anthony’s heart. Anthony completely forgotten Rome and his wife Octavia and tens of his obligations, like he lost his mind, for there is nothing he could think of but the curvaceous and alluring Cleopatra.

Conscious abandonment of Anthony’s duties, defecting from his own country, seductively in love with Cleopatra………was Augusto’s bitter indignation for disappointment and his disgust was overwhelming. He sent Mark Anthony to conquer the Parthians, which is at the rebelling point, but oh! Anthony with tens of his troops was captured by Egypt’s courtly love. Dazzled by this charming Queen and her gorgeous maidens, Mark Anthony and his troops were swept away, conquered by the Parthians without a fight.

The consequences of Anthony’s action gave him the shame to ran and hide himself from Cleopatra’s ample bosom of comfort. From Mark’s manner of betrayal, Augusto’s rage causes him to travel aggressively, leading his massive armies, determined to avenge Rome and his Uncle Caesar. But Anthony lost his courage from seeing Augusto’s battle fleets in clear view from a distance; he did not wait for his opponents to arrive, but instead, he fled, escaping immediately with his accomplice Cleopatra. Finding a hiding place in Alexandria, for his political burdens, he struck his chest with his knife. Fearful Cleopatra from the avenging Augusto, she imprisoned herself in a house, but the dying Mark Anthony is in his last moment now. Cleopatra is scurrying, panicking, she hurled Anthony by the window to escape, dragging him down by rope, but he died eventually after two hours. Octavian, who defeated Mark Anthony was then in front of Cleopatra.

—“Prepare to come with me in Rome, wear your purple mantle and your crown to your forehead. I will take you to Rome as my captive, entering the gate of the “Triumphal Way,” you will lead my victorious chariot.” Augusto spoke firmly.

Cleopatra did not say a word. Her painted dark eyes, resembling the darkest night, gave a hate glare to the Roman, an insulting mockery of devious disrespect peered into her face, to this powerful man in front of him.

Octaviano turned around and left the room, leaving Cleopatra alone, giving her time to prepare. But Cleopatra has something different in mind; she called her beloved slave named Iras and handed her a handful of money, saying:

—“Take this and find the farmer, whom I gave the instruction to prepare me the last of my Kingdom’s personal adornment.”

It was sunset, and from the depths of sea is the darkest rim slowly ascending and covering the earth’s surface rendering Alexandria’s inhabitants, the forewarned of the coming profound darkness is upon them. A silhouette of a woman with her hooded shawl covering her head break through the outer layer of the dark street, she left in secret, quietly walking, bustling. It was Iras, on her way to obey her Queen’s order, leaving Cleopatra in a room, her proud grave. After tracking the back roads, she finally arrived at her destination, an open field, planted with crops, and there was a small hut sitting on a countryside, a destitute area inhabited mostly by peasants. Iras stopped across this devoid impoverished hut, and met a man sitting on a chair, patiently waiting.

—“Did you fulfill my Lord’s request, my Queen’s order?” Iras asked.

—“Yes, slave.” The man replied while handing her a tiny basket, filled with figs and fully covered with pump cover, topped with sweetly scented flowers.

Iras received the tiny basket and handed the farm man a small silk bag full of money, and left. The farmer peered his eyes in this little bag, satisfied with what he saw; he smiled with great joy but mixed with covetousness, for he just realized that he wants more. While rubbing the Queen’s little bag with his thick palm, he whispered to himself like this:

—“What would Cleopatra do to those “vipers,” and why did she grant me a tremendous amount of money? Bah! Queens have so many fancy whims to indulge themselves, which is hard to understand.”

While Iras, however, is finally back to her Queen’s grave, in a room where her Lord is waiting for her. The Queen took the basket of figs and told the slave this:

—“Go on; I want to be left alone.”

After Iras left the room, Cleopatra held up the basket, and meticulously inspected the bassinet’s content.

She slowly opens the basket and smells the sweetly scented flowers. Among the figs was a young green bamboo, both ends are fully covered with shrubs of roots. The Queen shook the young bamboo that barely clatters, like what contained therein is a little weighty. A joyful smile on her lips with tears in her eyes, emerged on her charming, beautiful face. She put down the basket on top of those big pillows on her bed, then she slowly got up to put on her most valuable clothes, and the most beautiful one, then she took her crown and put it on top of her head. Then she slowly laid on her bed. A hair-raising and in a breathtaking move, she open the basket for the last time. Pulling the young bamboo from the basket, she plucked the roots covering the bamboo stump, and attached the bamboo to her soft and white breast; a green viper peered out its head then propelled it poisonous tongue around. The Queen shout aloud, and immediately the poisonous snake plunges its venomous teeth into her voluptuous breast.

Cleopatra closed her eyes and wait for her death, while thinking of Anthony, the love of her life, or perhaps visualizing the astonishing dismay from Octaviano’s eyes from seeing her dead body. Cleopatra’s body was found the next day by Augusto’s soldiers, wearing her crown on her head, lying on her bed like she was sleeping.

Augusto ordered to bury Anthony and Cleopatra’s dead bodies side by side in that grave, and then he went back to Rome. The defeat of Anthony and Cleopatra gave Octaviano the position as the sole ruler of the Republic, the only Lord left of Rome. He began to prefix his name with the designation as “Emperor,” a title conferred under the Republic for the victorious general.

With his sweet look, gentle and good manners, the weak and sickly young man with his lame left foot, was often mocked and insulted for being disable, whenever Mark is drunk.

Nevertheless, being ridiculed for his disability, unable to walk properly because of his damaged left foot, he gained all the respect of his people. He has all the qualities to represent all the high positions in high power, and fulfill with superiority the important obligations in the Republic.

Octaviano Augustu’s leadership became famous. Marcus Agrippa, Gaius Maecenas, Horatius Cocles, and Virgilio Maron became his best friends. World peace reached its peak in his reign, and his people cherished him and loved him. He was admired by the Kings who pays taxes; he had been good and kindhearted to everyone. He pardoned his enemies and even gave them well-paid and a secure position in the government. He became a Great King to all, a father of his land, caring and tolerant, a team player for every country, and the untiring teacher, subjection only to his jurisdiction that pays taxes.

The entire world was in this condition when the World’s Savior was born in Bethlehem, in a manger.

From the beginning of this history, before the expected time, we previously mentioned, vaguely the remarkable wondrous things that happened, the simultaneous occurrences from the birth of the Son of God’s world. The oracles became mute, unable to speak. Octavian’s Kingship for the Republic is changing at that time, but his ruling still keeps the traditional worshipping of the deities. So while Augusto is still consulting Sybils (female prophets), the Imperial cult was officially abandoning Rome’s worshipping of gods and goddesses because of the remarkable signs appearing in the sky at that point in time, and Rome became Israel’s subsidiary, a momentous move of the father and son, Augustus and Tiberius. They became the world’s famous Emperors upon Jesus Christ’s arrival.

The Great Herod, the dark shadow of Israel’s history, is now entering “Praetor’s” city. From here we can see him leaving to execute one damnable crime that stained world’s history. Before the rabid Idumean’s entrance at the Capitol city, he has to pass the gate they called “Porta Capena” in Rome. After crossing “Via Appia” and the old ramparts of “Tullius Hostilius,” before we see him kneeling at the Emperor Augusto’s foot in Parco del Cielo hills, let us turn our attention first for a moment to Caesar’s Palace.

A group of elderly soldiers with gray hairs can be seen walking back and forth across the patio. A vehicle called “litera” (cabin chariot) was parked at the broad square in front of Caesar’s Palace, surrounded by house staffs. An older man wearing a patrician’s robe emerged from the Palace, warmly greeting people at the hallway’s entrance. Everyone is giving their respect in return. The man wearing that robe is gently passing through, walking alone at the square through Cielo hills. He demeanor exudes an infinite kindness; his head covered with gray hair is slightly bent down through his chest, just like a tree branch when loaded with fruits. He’s of medium height, weak and delicate in appearance, and with a modest behavior.

Evidently in observing this older man from a distance, it is noticeable that he is crippled. His left foot is lame. Once in a while, people would greet him from the opposite direction, but some would stop identifying him thoroughly. In this manner, the old man wearing a robe would give a warm smile and would socialize with them briefly. Then he would continue walking, forcing himself to avoid every spectator’s curious eyes. In this way, he was able to continue crossing the city’s greater portion without delay.

After tracking the highest end of “Via Sacra,” he finally reached one of the seven hills of Rome called “Esquilino” and Vimines,” the smallest hills in Rome. As he approaches the one station far from the crowded city, this mysterious man’s face turned melancholy. He stopped and carefully observed a tiny house with its door closed. At the fence of that small house, are several cypress trees, and at the foot of a tree is a grave, dashed with yellow leaves. This grave is ostracized by the living. The robe’s wearer squeezed his eyes, wiping his tears, then he pulled a deep sigh from the bottom of his heart and spoke like this:

—“Pitiful Virgilio! Your flowers are no longer giving you their sweet scents to your warmhearted voice; the singing birds to your tree branches are no longer listening to your heartrending poems; for the great god swept you away from earth to take you to their heaven. May they protect you.”

Afterwards, he continued to walk heading to his delightful, elegant castle in a meadows, with a vast, exquisite garden not far from Virgilio’s house. At the center of this house structure is a tower, and from this tower is an overlooking scenery. The enchanting landscaping of geometric boundaries, the fantastic sections of the fourteen camps is the gratifying view and are part of Rome in Augustu’s time. Inside this tower is the owner’s dining room, and at the time of his meal, can be seen a marvelous sight, captivating to one’s eyes, an amusing, pleasing features presented by nature. The man wearing the robe entered this immense lovely garden, and passing through this spacious lane, are segments of trees, gorgeously extended along the straight pathways on both sides. Then finally, he arrives at the huge, broad front door, a wide elegant staircase on the aisle towards the door. Beside the wide staircase is a stunning marble statue situated at the top of a coarse rock.

The statue is identical to the man wearing the robe.

As he enters the first door, a slave sitting on a wooden chair stood up and bowed his head down for respect. Beside the slave is a dog, chained on a wall, with a warning sign saying this: “Beware of the dog.”

The newly arrived man approaches the dog, he gently rubs the dog’s head, and this in return had closed its joyous eyes, and lift up its neck, then wagged its tail excitedly, in recognition for this man’s gentle caring acknowledgment.

Then he continue to enter the hallway, climbed the swirling staircase and went straight to the second floor. Threading through several halls, he found some helpers on the way, and they gave him gestures of respect. Then in a sudden, he stopped across this huge door, he shoved it to enter inside the room.

In the room are two people. One of them is reading a book, entertained while turning pages, recognizing the validity of every word as he reads the story, and the other one is lying in bed, not feeling good, he looks pale, and hallowed with a sunken face.

Scattered in the room are unaccountable thick books, all the way through the bed where the sick person is lying. What more, but that room is a library, a study room for a learned scholar.

The sick person is Gaius Maecenas; the one who’s turning the book’s pages is Marcus Agrippa, and the newly arrived person is Octaviano Augustus, Rome’s Emperor.

HERE ARE THE TWO AMBITIOUS

BUILDING THEIR CASTLE IN THE AIR

SURROUNDED BY THEIR BOTTLES OF LIQUORS

—“Who is that woman singing like Bacchus’s slave? Singing in agony, weeping in grief, she sounds like she was shot, wounded by the blind god from the berries jungle. Serenities destruction of the forest!” Knowing Paulo, who is very fond of music, asked right off as the hymn slowly fade’s into thin air.

—“That woman?” The friend replied, —“is Enoe, my beloved slave, the one and only caretaker of this house, my habitat. A dwelling place, where I spent my time exploring the resourceful ideas of my creativity and having fun with it. My only comfort when I am weary and depleted, afflicted from my unending loneliness. A pleasurable relaxation for diversion.”

—“Your loneliness?” Paulo asked. —“You? The untiring drunkard? Your frequent drinking can make you an excellent opponent of Mark Anthony, who praises Egypt’s precious wine in Cleopatra’s festivities!”

—“Yes, loneliness! For a smiling lips has nothing to do with heart’s bitter affliction. A smile is an encouraging appearance in the outside, while the inner side is mourning. Wine can make you intoxicated to the point of losing your consciousness, where it can doze you to fall asleep especially when grieving.” Antipater explained.

—“You’re making sense,” Paulo replied while nodding at the same time. —“Come on, let’s drink. Sweet wine can stimulate you, and gives us pleasurable feelings of happiness. Our private friendship can give us aspirations for the good things to come. Forget the past, and let’s talk about Enoe; I feel sorry for that slave of yours; can you tell me her life story? Of what she went through?”

—“Enoe has no history.” Antipater states emphatically. —“She is a wild violet, bud out and grew in the Nile riverbank, migrated to Juda before she even flourishes her youthful beauty of freshness, bourgeoned to her excellence of sweet fragrances. I bought her with confidence from some Arabs, I obtained her from exchanging money for a payment, and kept her in this house. I trust her with certainty like my real sister; at first I thought that child would not hesitate to commit suicide, just not to let her see me grieving.”

—“Your sister?” Paulo doubts Antipater.

—“Yes! my sister Paulo, my sister!” Antipater replied in annoyance. —“And I swear to you through my faithful mother’s grave that I will not abuse that beautiful, shy mimosa, not until I grant her the “wife’s” title.”

Antipater’s sudden quotation of his mother made him pale in fear. He was caught off guard, astounded and too late to withdraw, the words he just spilled. But Paulo noticed his friend’s benumb reaction, and he said this:

—“You don’t look well? Is it something I said? Are you OK?” Paulo asked with concern, he noticed that his friend was startled.

—“Don’t mind me, my friend. It’s just that every time I thought of my mother, it reminds me of a traumatic event, like I can see it over again from my eyes, her body shaken, soaked in blood, flowing from within, but let’s change the subject and let’s talk about something else. Do you need money?” Herod’s son asked.

Paulo was shocked by this question. It was unexpected. Paulo was puzzled, for his friend never asked him this way before, but he responded in this aspect:

—“It’s too expensive to live in Rome, and living in peace without war can make every soldiers endure poverty. Deprivation of their basic needs makes their lives more complicated.” Paulo states.

—“In that case, I can make you wealthy,” said Antipater.

—“What a fantastic pledge, but I am puzzled. If what you say is true, then I should know, if this relief is for help? What’s in return to get that wealth?” Paulo voiced out.

—“Promise me first that what I tell you now is very private. I am going to make a deal and if you don’t accept my deal, then I asked you to please hide this secret plan forever, and bury it with you, to your grave.” Antipater’s terms for dealing.

—“I promise you, as a soldier, and to my sharp sword.” Paulo was ecstatic.

—“Now,” Antipater continues. —“Let’s swap our daggers and goblets. It would be best if you realized that at this very moment, Paulo Atme, the ambitious soldier, will become Antipater’s blood brother.”

—“Antipater’s blood brother? What do you mean?” Paulo asked in confusion.

—“Just follow what I say and do, we will make a pact!” Antipater explained.

The two friends pulled out their swords simultaneously from their waists and swap. As they slashed their arms together, they filled their goblets and brought about the cause of their agreement privately.

—“May the fierce Moloch and frightful Ahriman distract to agitate the peaceful sleep of the first to revoke this pact, and may they poison the blood of the first to break this devout covenant that binds us both!” The resounding statement of Herod’s son, then drink from the Roman’s goblet.

—“May the fierce Moloch and frightful Ahriman distract to agitate the peaceful sleep of the first to revoke this pact, and may they poison the blood of the first to break this devout covenant that binds us both!” Paulo repeated and mimicked his companion.

—“Soon the sun will rise, and shine its light to those tall minarets in the city and inside the palace of Jericho. And the soldiers will blow their resounding trumpets to awaken the still sleeping inhabitants and announce the sudden departure of my father, the King. You, Paulo, will lead the group of soldiers that will usher him through Rome. Do you know why my father is going to Caesar’s city?” Antipater states.

—“I don’t know anything about that.” Paulo replied. —“I was ordered to escort him to Rome, and I obey; that’s the instruction.”

—“Hear then, Paulo.” Antipater’s tricky course. —“My father is going to Rome because my brothers indict him through the Senate for killing our mother. Despite the danger of their bold action, the choice and willingness to confront their agony and pain from our mother’s death, gives them the valour to such a courageous stand against my father. They are willing to face negative situations knowing that this could result to a greater danger, but not knowing that this challenging action could virtually meant of signing their own death warrant.”

—“Herod can never have his children be killed; he is their father!” Paulo was outraged.

—“You still don’t know who my father is; their death without any doubt is coming, and my death is just around the corner after that. But I am not like one of those who give up easily without a fight. Not once that my heart died from one blood’s cry, the battle will be dreadful, and I am going to need you, Paulo!” Antipater is pleading.

—“Talk!” uttered Paulo to himself, as he sees now the conclusion of this delightful and delicious dinner. A betrayal to the King.

—“After his works from Rome, my father will return to Juda accompanied by the Praetorian soldiers. If my father got killed coming out from Palestine’s border coast, the crown would be mine, then you will receive twenty (20) Hebrew talent.” Antipater bluntly said.

Augusto’s soldier’s heart stopped for a moment, carefully thinking, considering that this is getting serious. His deep thought is absorbing every word, characterized by pondering a rigorous contemplation, a very clever companion in front of him is dead serious. Then he responds like this:

—“If I am not part of those groups ushering your father’s return, then I am not participating in giving you my service as well.”

—“You will be counted and participating.” Antipater answered.

—“So now you’re reassuring me in advance that my Lord Caesar will order me to usher your father’s return to Juda?” Paulo asked.

—“No: but you can fix it and work out to manage in joining the group, escorting my father’s return to Juda.” Antipater suggest.

—“Can you elaborate me more on what you really mean?” The Roman’s language.

—“Hear me. The soldiers are annoyed and irritated living in peace; a harmonious life is not what they desire. They want war. To die in the battlefield is their best achievement they can obtain. An honorable death is their aspiration. In Rome, flocks of soldiers like sharks are all over; they are tired of living in peace that makes them weak, and they are determined and destined to pull out their swords. They are looking for somebody, of whoever comes first to invoke them, persuades them to act in one’s favor and pay them sum of money, like a bribe. And you are that person, Paulo, you are the one that can give them silvers of money. If ever you are not fortunate enough to get selected again by Caesar to lead and usher my father’s return, then you can bribe one of the Centurions to join the group, and this will work out. While traveling, it will be easy for you to lure and bribe some soldiers for buy off, and upon reaching Juda’s land, have somebody to struck a knife to my father’s heart. And while this is being carried out, I will gather all my adherents and prepare them for a sudden battle, a quick take over, ousting the oppositions. When all is done, meet my ally to his fort to receive the money, and me the crown.” Antipater laid out his perfect plan.

—“Your plan is extremely dangerous.” Paulo’s soft reply. —“Don’t you know that Caesar Augusto is the only one who can grant you the crown and make you the King of Juda?”

—“Caesar is pretty easy to buy: that’s how my father did, and I will do the same,” the proud Antipater deemed.

—“Despite being dangerous for an uncertain outcome, you are gambling for taking this risk, you are betting your head,” the soldiers aid of concern.

—“Herod’s death should be blamed on one event, a circumstance of something negative happened, and can be taken into consideration, or his constant rage could be a factor too. Something that causes a person to act, expressing violent, uncontrollable anger which is not too obvious, and can be a motive for his murder.” Antipater is determined.

—“But Herod has three more children in Jerusalem, your three brethren.” Paulo is reminding his friend.

—“Execute the first, and I’ll do the rest.” Herod’s son closing discussion.

Paulo thought of it for a while. He is in the process of using his mind considering the plan but hesitating at the same time, not wanting to be a part of something sinister that can cost him his life.

—“Are you skeptical?” Antipater asked.

—“You know that life has no value to me.” Paulo replied.

—“Then what is the apprehension? I can’t understand you! Twenty Hebrew talent is a fortune. So, to think that you would rather live poor all your life doesn’t make sense to me. I am offering you wealth for a tiny risk that can be done in no time. This will be quick!” The annoyed Antipater explained.

—“The money your handing me is just a handful of pique! You probably don’t realize that hunger for money has no perspective to my fellow citizens; nothing can satisfy them when speaking about the importance of life. If ever I get selected again to lead the troops escorting your father, then I can carry out this plan without a big commotion.” Paulo affirmed.

—“You can name your price!” Herod’s son quick response.

—“Let’s don’t talk about the price.” Paulo countered. —“Would it be better if things and conditions can be agreed upon, when making a plan like this? For people like me, the sounds of money is not enough.”

—“Therefore, talk to me, straight to the point, without beatings around the bush, but don’t forget that we have to stay on guard to hide this secret if we agreed upon the conditions.” Antipater replied.

—“If in this quest you obtained the crown, then me, on the other hand, is asking to become a Governor on one of Israel’s city.” Paulo’s clear proposal, without falter.

Antipater bit his lips from Paulo’s request, forcibly preventing himself from exhibiting an outward reaction of any kind for misunderstandings. Enough blockages are already arising, and he doesn’t want to add any more conflicts, so he did not speak; not a word came out of his lips. Paulo continues talking in a hoarse and cold voice:

—“You’ll be a King and I a Governor. About the hush money, you need to add more, twelve talents to dole out soldiers, to help out the commotions at Palestine’s harbor.” Paulo laid his game plan.

Antipater was stunned at Paulo’s request; he thought of Paulo’s demand for a few second, but after a while, he responded quickly:

—“I accept!”

—“Then, let’s drink for the success, and good ending of this plan.” Paulo cheers.

As Paulo filled the goblets with wine, he recounts once more, as if congratulating themselves in advance the promising outcome of their clever scheme.

—“This is for the good fortune of Jerusalem’s future King, and the success of the future Governor of Galilee!”

After they consume the cup’s content, Antipater stood up from bed, and walked towards one of the corners room, then went to a hidden dresser engraved on a wall. He pulled a leather bag from the dresser, the bag is quite bulky and weighty, then pulled an inkwell made of clay as well, a quill and two pieces of paper. He carried them and laid them all on the table without saying a word.

Then Antipater sat on a cushion situated on the floor and briefed Paulo, saying:

—“You will find two hundred Hebrew talents in that bag. Is that amount not enough for the primary favor, to execute the plan in Rome?” Antipater asked.

—“I think this is fair, but………………………………”

—“I understand you now. From these pieces of papers we will write our agreement; you will keep one copy, and I will take care of the second copy.” Antipater reached an agreement.

Antipater took the papers, and began to scribble to legalize the pact using a quill pen with an inkwell made of clay.

—“I can see that you are writing a statement regarding our covenant to have a full moral value, like a patron; that’s what I want.” Paulo esteemed.

The two friends began writing and signing the agreement in the permanent form to make it official, a written document for acknowledgment. An undertaking needs to be done by both, with tens of their benefits, a treacherous scheme against the King of the Holy City.

After writing their systematic letters, the two friends hide each of their copies, a done deal set to accomplish their goal, a collaboration from each other respectively. They were both bound by each other’s promises: perhaps they both have signed for their death sentence. Their remaining time for the interrupted dinner, an agreement they made, recognized by the primers, resulted in silence.

The two had been quiet for a while, eating very little but constantly drinking, to pass it off, a disguise for a possible exhalation in different notions piling up in their minds. Antipater’s mind is in the crown, and to his imagination or perhaps a delusion, that a crown will lay upon his forehead not long from now. But Paulo’s worries are in Roman’s proverbs, a superstitious belief in Augusto’s time: “Don’t sit with more men than women in a merriment celebration.”

A resounding transmission of sound sharply blasted through the air filling the entire room that surprised and awakened the thoughts of these two friends, thus at the very moment were in a dreamland, envisioning a successful future for the two of them.

—“What is that sound?” Paulo asked.

—“Enoe is letting us know that the morning star is now visible from the east, illuminating its rays of light, and the dawn will soon be breaking up from the horizon.” Antipater replied.

—“In that matter, we need to proceed now and part ways.” Paulo’s sudden words, and stood up at the same time.

—“Yes, we have to hurry! For the blasting sounds of trumpets will soon bursts out, calling the troops that would usher my father!” Antipater abruptly answered.

—“We should leave now, and may Jupiter give us the good fortune to attain our superior and successful coup.” Paulo’s hopeful for his skills.

—“I expect the same.” Antipater remarks. —“For hope and great courage.”

—“Possessing great power of strength that’s rooted from the heart is better than hope.” Paulo reputed.

—“Don’t forget that we need those two things! Hope and courage.” Antipater’s advice.

—“I will not forget.” Paulo’s quick response.

The two friends shake hands, a sign of assurance for confidence. A trust was set up, relying on each other from the bottom of their hearts to outwit the enemy. They made it ready, all the cautions they will need to face the risks, and dangers before bidding goodbyes, then they proceed to depart. Tracking different roads, they continue walking towards the palace,

Meanwhile, a secret door from Herod’s bedroom opened abruptly, and entered Cingo the slave, in a hurry, catching his breath, as he approaches his Lord’s bed.

—“What happened to you, Cingo?” Herod asked his slave.

—“Your suspicion is right, my Lord!” The negro replied. —“Paulo and your son spend the night together.”

—“And where?” The unconcerned Herod asked.

—“From Enoe’s house, Antipater’s slave,” Cingo said.

—“You know that from now on, it is your obligation to always follow that greedy Roman, like a shadow. About my son, I am disowning him now. What time is it?” Herod asked.

—“The dawn will be rising from the east very soon.” The slave responded.

—“Notify Ptolomy, and prepare everything for travel. You’re coming with me.” The King ordered Cingo.

Cingo bowed down, and left the room using the same door, the secret door.

Herod tumbled down to his soft bed once more, like no one had disturbed him so far.

THE ONE PRINCE NEST’S

The whole Jericho is fast asleep. The only identifiable amplitude reverberating that night transmitting through the air was the Jordan river’s modulating waves. The flowing beatings of streams gently striking the wayside grasses with its repeated blows, creating a distinguishable sound, a harmonious intonation breaking the silence in the dead of night, similar to a graveyard, a place of rest for this Idumean King’s beloved city.

From the darkness of the night sky is the moon gently dwindling its melancholic light. But still, the visible brilliant stars gleaming in the sky are backing up the heaven’s infinite blackness, spreading their tiny sparkling radiance like searching for the night Queen that’s no longer in heaven. The sweet, pleasant breeze diffuses its perfumes from the misty fragrances in the air. It’s luscious aroma suspended in the air spreading its potions from the bouquet of flowers, like looking for a rim, a hiding place from the unseen wings of the comforting night’s fresh air, a sympathetic insight, penetrating the deep understanding, bursting in the absolute wilderness, begging and kindly pleasing the tip of the highest tree, open wide to the full extent of the flowers innermost.

A man in a dark cloak, commonly worn by Hebrews emerged from Herod’s palace, almost in a hurry, running across the square. Upon reaching the ground porch, the shadow began counting the pillars, then halted at the fourth column. Standing therein, the shadow started to look around, scrutinizing, detailing the darkest of night, searching the surroundings, magnifying the entire place.

After a while, positively assured that he is all alone, he confidently leaned his back at the post, like he is inclined to wait. This mysterious person remained still at first, without breaking his silence, breathless, frozen into that hard stone of support. In a moment, boredom came unto him, or perhaps he did not appreciate the moody place pervading the changing tone of his character. And so, he wrapped his dark shawl around his head and walk around the column back and forth. Half an hour more had passed, and a shadowy figure unexpectedly materialized, coming from the other end, quietly roaming around in the deep of night, hiding his dynamic body from the heap of his crumpled Roman cloak.

—“Paulo!” uttered by the first, when he saw this newly arrived nearing him, but his holler is almost like a whisper.

—“I am not so skilled in assessing and reading the stars; this is why I’m late for most of my meetings,” the newly arrived said.

—“Disregard those things now; what’s important is you’re here, let’s go.” Antipater’s invitation.

—“Let’s go! Wherever you desire, but I tell you in advance that I’ll be leaving tomorrow before dawn.” Paulo said.

—“Even before the “morning star” arises, we’ll be done,” Antipater replied.

Herod’s son, Antipater, who behaves like a woman, clasps his one arm around Paulo’s waist. Then they both walk the narrow back road heading to the most farthest isolated town. They walked for quite a while, and then they stopped across this tiny house in a dark corner, a small house unnoticeable from the passersby’s meticulous eyes, bare face from the extravagant design of luxury, plain and simple, but well kept and in order.

—“Here it is,” Antipater said.

—“Thank god,” the companion replied, like he’s not with himself.

Herod’s son knock at the wooden board door of that tiny house, an unusual knock giving a signal, seeking an admittance, then abruptly, the door swung wide open, like somebody is deliberately expecting the coming guests.

—“Good evening Enoe,” Antipater greeted as they enter the house, a young lady holding a lamplight in her hand, illuminating the newly arrived visitors, she gave a shy smile, looking innocently, lacking confidence.

—“May peace be with you, my Lord, and to that gentleman your companion.” Enoe replied in her sweet voice, a Jewish customs.

Paulo observed the young lady from Israel, outlining her face from the dim lamplight, and then he looked at his friend, like he wants to ask him like this: —“Who is that young lady?”

Antipater smiled at his friend, his reply to Paulo’s meaningful stare, his expressive behavior.

—“Wait here gentlemen,” Enoe said anew. —“This corridor is dark, so let me light your way.”

The Jewish lady gently closed the front door first, and went leading the way with her lamplight in her hand, a lamp casting lights that is not very bright and shines only over a small area.

Likewise, the newly arrived guests quietly followed the young lady leading them, they continue to walk more, and in twenty-five steps they reached the dead-end, a wall-like closure is blocking their way.

The young lady from Israel laid the palm of her hand on that wall, then like a magician, she clumsily pushed the wall, and the heavy wall gave way, a secret door for the two friends.

—“Please come in,” said Enoe.

Paulo and Antipater passed that hallowed space and walk a little further, tracing a path going to one more room.

Enoe opened the door, and there, a bright room with unaccountable lights, very different from where they came, the narrow and dark pathways, transmitting very little lights. And here they are, into a flambouyant, fashionable room, waiting for them to occupy, to share this beautiful night together.

But then, Enoe suddenly disappeared.

—“Oh!” the baffled Paulo uttered. —“This is astonishing! The light overcomes the darkness, and the wealth from poor.”

This Marte’s child is amazed, recognizing all the different valuable things surrounding him, not having encountered this kind of affluence before. Overburdened by his genuine admiration, he was impressed, with regard for appreciation, like in a mirage of having a nightmare but suddenly awakened in a room beside the mythical goddess of love and beauty in Egypt.

Now, let’s see what this Praetorian soldier had seen and cherished.

The said room is tiny but adorned with fine beautification, arranged like a Grecian’s room. The walls are shrouded with silky-floss curtains in neon-pearl color from France, shimmering when illuminated with lights like a pomegranate’s flower. Four golden lamps hanging from the fanciful ceiling, dispersing its glinting lights, lamps with unending oil coming from a motility, an oil-based fuel source to continuously produce flames, laying at the mahogany table, intricately enhanced with curvy ivory. A round dining table with one leg, known and called by the Romans as “manupudium” (table furniture). Beside this table is a bed in a triangular shape, stack with throw pillows in silky blue fabric, accentuating the room colors, very alluring to the menacing comfort of laziness. Lavishly garnished with rugs in leopard skin, laid on the wood board floor, giving the condition of standing out from being prominent. In the four corners of this room are the four burning frankincense bestowing aromatic scents in the air, stretching out in the entire room, along with perfumed myrrh and spikenard, issuing forth white clouds of steam floating across the room reaching the heavenly ceiling. And as soon as this sweet scents left the room, only then will come out from that wide hallowed passage, towards the hard resplendent corridor.

The dinner table is prepared. The finely burnished wooden table is shining lustrous, a reflective glow like a newly polished mahogany. On top of this table are the four beautiful jars with two handles in each, white as milk in color and smooth like a fragile glass. Stored inside are wine, cold and transparent, like spring water from Lebanon’s mountain. Each of these jars adheres with parchments in a square shape (labels), showing the type of wine and the year in which the wine was made. Reading more, identifies the names of the consul or the dictator of the Roman Republic in which year the grapes were picked and where they came. A big omelet from corn wheat is served at the dinner table, topped with a lump of tiny lamb meat, red like gold, encased with sweet perfumed leaves from the garden fresh plants, and garnished with tiny, little birds. Around this plate is a row of unaccountable small crystal saucers, containing varieties of delicious sweet fruits. An amber jar filled with water and vinegar is set at the table, a beverage genuinely loves by the Romans. Two big, wide mouth goblets are placed beside the bed, etched with protruded designs in various colors. These goblets are usually served with the desserts after finishing the main course, and everyone is happily conversing, exchanging discussions while enjoying their sweet course. At the end corner of this room is a white marble sink, laying on top of this sink are two small bits of woods from the grapefruit’s tree, (soap), and hanging beside the sink are the two thin cloths made from pineapple leaves for handy wipes.

Following Paulo’s observations, he turned his attention to some dishes in front of him, and then he stretched his arms, grinning from ear to ear, and he spoke like this:

—“May the god Pan of the wild shepherds and flocks greatly multiply those innocent lambs. May the happy Bacchus, with his powerful warmth give more bountiful and amusing wildlands. And may he expand more land of Italy’s natural environments, the source of plentiful fresh grapes, harvested from the plain lands of Sorrento, Lacryma Christi, Falerno del Massico, Calvi, Cesano, and Sezano. And you boisterous Comus, god of festivities and rivalry, pour all your graciousness to my friend Antipater, and grant him a firm abdomen, energetic like the Ostrich, and not have indigestion from battling in eating plenty of food, and varieties of delicious wine.”

—“May it be so,” Herod’s son replied, followed by a loud laughter.

Then the two friends prepared to eat. After washing off their hands from that white marble sink, they took off their clothes to not prevent them from eating, and then they tied those thin linens up to their necks. As they sprawled themselves on the cushions settled on the floor, they propped up their arms on the table, heads-up leveling the table, and began to eat by hand (silverwares are non-existent at the time). Eating with fingers, pinching, and twisting every fiber of that delicious and appetizing lamb, is a flavorful flesh satisfying to the taste of these two hungry friends.

—“But Enoe? Enoe? Where did she go?” Paulo asked, he thought of the Jewish. —“Why didn’t she join us for dinner?”

—“Friend,” replied Antipater. —“Enoe faded like a dream, but don’t get bored because in a while, you will hear her and listen to her angelic voice.”

—“The gods and goddesses are aware of that slave’s sad sentiment,” Paulo uttered.

—“Bah! And what do you care about that slave?” asked Antipater.

—“I am a Roman,” Paulo answered. —“And so I am very superstitious. In every festivities there are more male than female, perhaps before the end of the year, wine will turn into blood.”

—“For you Paulo, and me your best friend,” Antipater’s loud proposal, lifting up his wine goblet for a toast, pretending to be deaf, not wanting to hear his friend’s superstitious beliefs, even if it made him pale from fearing.

—“And this is for Augusto Cesar, for Roman’s honor. And Tiber’s children’s good fortune.” Paulo added.

Then the two friends drank straight up their wine, one shot from their goblets.

—“A very refined flavour, rich and delicious falernum,” Paulo praised, then he took the wine jar and poured more, filling up their goblets one more time.

Affected by alcohol, he fixed his eyes on the label and was stunned by what’s written. The name and wine’s age gladdened him from what it describes, then Paulo continues reading.

—“Pure and genuine Sorrento, year 636 from the time of dictator “Luscius Cornellius Sulla Felix.” The wine gives Paulo more pleasure, and it made him more talkative. —“The honorable wicked, you murdered General Mario of hunger from that African marshy land. You! Because of your so-called “The table of the prohibition law” or your lists of condemned people, from Itoma’s street, you poured their blood. You poisoned the conscious and good mind of these courteous and honorable men and you twisted their social awareness, you taught them to become aware of their own selfish desires, and so while alive, your putrid flesh is wormed, feasts upon by these crawling creeps. Get up now! From your grave, meet those people in your time that learned how to survive, living unto now, saved from your bloodthirsty and grisly Kingship!”

After Paulo’s speech, he sighed deeply, then continue talking again, joking:

—“This is for Cornelius Sulla,”

Raising his wine goblet again, Antipater followed, consuming the wine with Paulo, but in a quiet mode, not saying a word like he’s planning of something, or perhaps Paulo’s intoxication afflicts Herod’s son’s generosity.

—“I swear in the name of beloved Julio’s jungle!” Paulo continued and pulled a plate of food at the same time, showing a loaded behavior. —“If not for you here beside me, and if not for my horse from Cordova, chewing grasses with its harness tied at Jericho’s palace, if not for my full belief that a few steps from here is the ever-flowing Jordan river. I may have believed that I am in a breathtaking Roman bath with a lovely woman, scenting a pleasant and delicious sweet smell that dazed me from being intoxicated.”

In that fashion, the quiet Antipater, with his jolly and talkative friend, rang a carved wood bell with his right index finger without being noticed. A chiming sound of an iron bell reverberate the room.

—Ah!” Paulo’s slurred speech, then turned his head around, searching for that tinkling sound, while Antipater is enjoying the behavior of his guest’s demeanor. —“That sound is telling me that one more miracle is about to happen. But I tell you in advance, my dear friend, that a Roman in Augusto’s days cannot be easily deceived from the frightening surprises while elated from intoxication, under the influence of Sorrento and Falernum’s exhalation.”

—“I don’t intend to frighten you.” Herod’s son replied, wanting to laugh. —“I just want to fulfill my promise to you, didn’t I tell you earlier that you will hear from Enoe again?”

—“Surely then.” cock-eyed Paulo blasted.

—“Then hear it and judge,” Antipater’s commentary.

Then Paulo stopped talking and waited. And in a moment, heard the sweet and enticing harp’s sounded the room, glittering, cascading its mellow resonance. The beautiful and heartrending melody sprinkled the air, slowly diffusing its delighted harmony around the room and bewitching the enchanting atmosphere to fall asleep. But what more to say, to this alluring harp, giving the fascinating, seductive consonance, emotionally fiddled with the tip of its soft, delicate fingers, deeply moved by an angel —spilling a stream of pleasure, pouring water falls of high spirits from heaven for these two friends. Paulo lost his consciousness, and he could not continue to eat from hearing this captivating descant. Like Homer’s song, this is a dream, composing its hymns witnessed by his gleaming eyes; and Virgilio’s poem, chanted by choir of goddesses of the mythical wonders. Then the harp’s sound ceased for a moment, a brief quietude filled the air, and then once more, a melodramatic music breaks the silence, accompanied by a harmonious voice of a woman, very sweet and sensitive. Touching and heartbroken, better than the harp’s congruity, like hanging, swinging from the gloomy branches of a fig tree, in Ephraim’s woodlands, oscillating from side to side, carried by the gentle wind, the soft voice is singing the following:

“I am a bird from a deep dark forest, and from the glowing blue stars is my bursting amicable heart, grieving in sweet mourning.”

“I am a bird with different colors, placed in an angelic river, nesting on a shore. My warm-hearted voice is my honest supplication.”

“With tens of my heart’s desire is a meaningless lamentation.”

“I am that lost, wretched dove, and from Libano’s petrified ground, I am nesting.”

“And when I sing my wounded afflicted heart, they desired me.”

“Let my heart be love.”

“Living in yearning, I slowly withered.”

“Hidden from the sun’s morning dew, repulse not to ask for the rose’s sweet scent.”

Then the song, and the harp’s music stopped. The deep resonance and the magnanimous lamentation of a woman’s voice faded like a fainted dream from a longing, loving soul, with nothing left in the end but a sweet blurry memory. Sad and unopinionated, a farewell kiss from the one who bid goodbye, ushered by the wings of wind, aimed shoot by the beloved.

THE LAW OF THE TWELVE TABLES

The newly arrived envoy is conveying an impression of a man in his fifty (50). His bright and mild looking face is completely clean-shaven. On his clean forehead are his crisscrossed wrinkles common to people who are fully engaged in studying and are not interested in giving any attention to the lying bliss of this world. A bookworm without personal interest of passionately grooming himself, acquiring gray hair is not of concerned, dedicated to study hard, and committing oneself to be firm, stiff to touch, and not easily bent. His loose untidy hair mixed with grays are laid down through his shoulders, attesting that he did not conform to the latest fashion to use wigs or hair iron tweezers to curl his hair, a popular trend at that time.

The clothing he’s wearing specifies his outstanding quality, a loose garment called “Laticlave” worn by Senators. Black in color and on the tunic’s forepart was a broad stripe of purple. Even his shoes are black, reaching up to his mid-leg, adhered with a letter “C” in silver. On his neck is hanging a gold chain necklace with a tiny ball hallowed in the inside, engraved in heart shape laying on his chest.

His left hand is hidden under his wrinkled tunic like a judicial robe, pulled tightly at the upper left shoulder, accumulating a pile of wrinkles on the upper chest. His right arm is fully exposed from his gown’s opening. He held from his hand is a thick book covered with leather skin, ingrained are the following letters in Roman words: “The Law of the Twelve Tables.”

—“Viva Cesar Augusto,” Herod shouted when he saw the emissary from Rome entered his room.

—“May peace be with you, King of Juda,” the patron lawyer replied, while his hand is laying upon the heart shape ball hanging from his chest. —“Octavio sent me here to give you this letter.”

Then he pulled a small parcel of paper he’s carrying from his book and hand it all to Herod. Reaching for the small pack of paper, Herod respectfully bowed his head down, then slowly open the letter and read the content.

The second letter of Augusto Octavio, Rome’s Emperor is stating these words:

—“To the reigning King of Judea, due to our own accord; may the triumph of jubilation be with you. From here in Capitol to Herod of Escalon.”

—“My Dear Idumean: Rome has a law, known by his people they called: “The Law of the Twelve Tables” or “Decemvir.” And if ever you still don’t understand this law, I send you this delegate, a lawyer Mario Cucio; accept him as your defense lawyer to represent you from your children’s accusation, Aristobulus and Philip for their mother’s death, Mariamne. Have faith and ask the goddesses for support that they will not forsake you in this time of trouble. Rome grants you the time needed to prepare for your travel, and the Emperor, your friend, is advising you to not delay your coming. For the accused person, be it downright Cesar, cannot possibly ignore the magistrates to not present himself. While traveling, Mario can explain to you the context of Law IV that thou may have peace of mind.

Your Emperor: Augusto is waiting.”

Herod finished-up reading this letter and from his contrasting emotions battling his heart, he forced himself to calm down.

On the other hand, powerful Cesar, the honorable Octavio, the famous Augusto, the world’s Lord, was called a “dear friend.” While on the other side, Herod was accused by his children of murdering his spouse.

—“So, therefore, my children are accusing me and asking me to appear and present myself in Rome?” Herod said.

—“And Rome cannot deny this petition from them. The “Patricians” and “Libertarians,” gentlemen and liberated, soldiers and priests, and all over, from far-away provinces, dominated by Rome’s Eagle’s wings, prostrated through the powerful Cesar, should respect the cruel decree with no tribunals (public opinions) or take sides, through his Empire’s magistrates, written in the Capitol’s Table.” Mario declared.

—“So, therefore Roman, I respect the law, and I appoint you as my defense attorney. Please read to me my rights and the Law IV, the decemvir’s code of law.” Herod said.

—“Before I accept my position to defend you as your lawyer, I as your legal counselor and you as the defendant, need to understand the function of this law perfectly until the end.” The emissary’s soft reply.

—“Point out to me then,” Herod said.

Then gradually the Roman set his book at the table, and in one command, he sends the signal to his slaves to leave them for a while.

When the counselor were left alone with Herod, the lawyer continued to talk.

—“Lay your hand on top of this book, the law that guides us, offer your mind and heart to the goddesses that protect us. Testify under oath that you are appointing me as your professional counselor. You will regard me as your legitimate brother, and never will you persecute me before the court of justice. It would be best if you never testify in any litigation that may damage me and my profession as your defense lawyer, and at any time will you dedicate your life to save my life.”

—“And I too, swear,” Mario Cucio continued. —“That no one forced me from this solemn oath, that I will never persecute you or testify against you at any time, and I will defend your life from any endangerment, even to the point of putting my life to any danger in anytime you needed me. If ever from between the two of us revoke this oath, may his corpse be an offering to Pluto, the god of the underworld and the goddesses of hell.”

Mario Cucio paused for a moment while opening the other book at the tabletop.

—“Your children are accusing you,” Mario pursued, reading Herod’s legal rights. —“Their explanation was, you killed your wife, their mother, but your children did not understand, my dear defendant, that in Rome’s law they hate and are disgusted to children who are disrespectful from their parent’s authority. So, please listen to Law IV, the decemvirs intended for father’s dominion in a family, and then prepare to travel with me.”

Herod listen to his counselor attentively, almost without breathing: and perhaps Herod would grant or pay half of his wealth if they would allow him to enrage them and through his own hands, would violently crash his traitor’s children.

—“The law IV,” the lawyer explained. —“Is a law allowing fathers the power of authority to give life or death to their children. From the seriousness of this law, is the father’s ability to act as a judge to their children. Therefore, Herod has the right to determine his children’s fate, in either imprisonment, beatings, or field’s hard labor, and rarely so, to chose to kill. A child cannot own anything without their father’s consent and would not be able to get appointed or be designated to any government positions. If ever the child has the ability to force and perforate a profession in the government, then, their earnings are accounted to the slave’s income. The siblings will not be released or be freed from their father’s dominion not until they died, even if there be grandchildren, but the daughters are subjected under their husband’s dominion.

—“Ah! So, therefore,” Herod cried out loud, for he cannot hold on for so much delight.

—“Your children are still under your domain, although they accused you.” the counselor added.

The Idumean without any hesitation, stood up right away and hit hard the bell situated at the tabletop’s headboard.

Cingo appeared in the room.

—“Call everyone immediately, my children, my brothers and sisters, my military General and the old Ptolomy,” Herod’s command to his slave.

—“I caution you in advance,” the lawyer said, —“that they are waiting for us in a big sailing ship in Cesaria’s city, the one that I used to get here, accompanied by numerous soldiers leading by the daring Paulo Atme. Cesar Augusto ordered all these for you, to not be distracted and not delay your preparation to travel.”

—“Don’t worry,” Herod said. —“Early tomorrow before dawn, we are leaving.”

After a while, everybody’s gathered at the wide vast hallway of Herod’s Palace in Jericho. Herod’s relatives and some high-ranking officials of his crown arrived at the same time in the entrance, populating the gallery, conversing and discussing their affairs.

In Herod’s brief words, the King explained why his travel was; Ptolomy was ordered to prepare everything they needed. Herod also gave instructions on who could come to travel with him. He appointed Archelao the supervision to take charge of his Kingdom and wrote a letter concerning this matter. Then he gave the letter to General Verutidio to deliver this message to his son Archelao in Jerusalem.

From all those gathered in the lobby was Paulo Atme, the battalion leader who ushered Attorney Mario Cucio from Rome. Paulo is one of those who were born for the battle array and grew up trained as a horse warrior in the field of warfare. Very young, for he is only thirty (30) years of age. Paulo started as a common soldier and climbed the high-ranking position as a military General. Just like those famous warriors at that time, he possessed the proud gaze, but he had the manners of disrespecting the successful winners with his affront scornful abuse. Paulo desires honors, for in the past histories, warfare exalts many soldiers to attain Kingdom’s primary positions. He’s wearing a military attire called “Chlamy’s,” conforming for travel, a coat in a scarlet color with a purple accent. From his wide belt, tightening his waist, is a sword hanging on his left side made in Spain. A combat boots on his right foot, but his left is simply a lightweight shoe surrounded with nails, and they call this a “sandal” (caliga); the source of the cruel King’s name, “Caligula.”

While Herod is giving orders for his travel, Paulo rather is standing at the door, with his arms folded to his chest and watching everything like he could careless. Across the hallway, where Paulo’s standing is the generous Antipater, facing an open window, with his chin resting on one of his hands, looking out the window, and hooked up listening to his father. An abrupt sharp turn of Antipater’s head, and with his firm eyes strikes the proud and robust Paulo. Antipater’s face changes its demeanor right away; the sudden warmth of his body temperature escalates and makes his milky white face turned into a reddish color.

Antipater’s first reaction was to bow his head at the front hallways and pretend to leave, but then he stopped suddenly, then turned around, and went back to his former place. After a while, Antipater fixed his eyes to his father, then oblivious to his actions, he stood up and left the window to roam around the hall. Then he stopped into a group of people in one area and started debating, arguing, increasing his voice volume, intently attracting Herod’s attention to let him know of his whereabout. Then in a flash, he reached Paulo’s area, and after laying his hand to this Tiber’s child’s shoulder, he whispered saying:

—“I thought you’re still in Marte’s (battle) ground and subduing, conquering men and capturing beautiful women’s hearts.”

—“Good cheer! Antipater, I thought you’re still in Holy Land of the Maccabees; but I am glad to find you in Rose’s city.” Paulo replied.

We should mention here that Antipater, like all Herod’s children grew up and studied in Rome, a valued slave for his courtship to Emperor Augusto Octaviano, a sacrifice by this taxpayer, the King of Juda.

Antipater and Paulo became best of friends when they met in Rome. Aside from this, they formerly known each other from Paulo’s rare visit to Jerusalem for collecting taxes for Cesar.

—“If Paulo still remembers,” Antipater continues to talk, lowering his voice this time, —“our customs for celebration, if water still pleased you, liquor from Cyprus and Falernum. If you still remember those joyful nights that we relish and savor from that tiny romantic place in Appian Way and its balcony’s ambiance, “the tomb of Scipios.” If Antipater is still his friend, then I will wait for you at the Palace’s ground floor, beside the fourth pillar.”

Antipater did not wait for Paulo’s reply and left quickly in fear that his father might notice his special affection for this Roman.

—“Nothing’s change,” Paulo whispered to himself. —“Graceful like a lady and strong like Cesar’s gladiator. But this child forgot that I just arrived today and I will be leaving tomorrow. Well, a soldier should never refuse a bottle of liquor from Falernum, even if this was offered as the last drink from the person’s sentenced to death. I am going…………I will go; refusing Bacchus (god of liquor) can sometimes cause a person’s disaster.

An announcement of Herod, got everybody’s attention, dismissing everyone and to excuse himself to get a rest.

Achiab was the last one to kiss Herod’s hand and asked him this question:

—“Are you leaving tomorrow?”

—“Yes! But I won’t be long.” Herod replied.

—“And what are you going to do in Cesar’s city? the child asked again.

—“What Amulius did not do to Remus and Romulus, I will do to your Uncle’s Aristobulus and Philip, and so whatever happened to Amulius will not happen to me.” Herod said.

Then Herod gave Achiab a slight tap at his back and motion to go on and get some rest. When the King was left alone, he went to bed muttering the following:

—“I will make Amulius my example to my children; but this new Messaiah, King of Juda, so they say, will Athaliah be my instigator, the initiator.”