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contemplated how best they could serve him. Men of such loyalty were not to be expended wastefully; however he knew that his ambitions would involve massive numbers of ‘expendable labor’ as it were.
    Slaves, he thought to himself, I need large numbers of slaves . Slave markets were ample in the region so acquisition would be simple enough. It was then that an evil thought struck him; one which would supply him with endless hordes and bring about disruption of the province. Slaves made up a large portion of the population; even the poorest plebeians possessed human property. Most slaves were fairly docile, having been born into their lot in life and they accepted it. Heracles also knew that within the deepest souls of each burned a desire for freedom. He would offer it to them…at a price of course!

Chapter IV: A Sad Journey Home
     
     
    As the days and weeks rolled by Artorius found that he was growing beyond what he had ever thought possible. His tunics hardly fit anymore; his strength and stamina, which was already savage, were now that of a warhorse. And yet he found himself mentally more relaxed and focused. The gymnasium provided an outlet for his aggression. In his encounters with women he had become more consciously aware of his brutal strength and veracity, and thereby less inclined to try and break them in half, as had been his habit previously. He still had a tendency to bite, though that was more out of habit than anything. He was pondering such conquests when he strolled into the inn where the Principal officers and Centurions were housed. He was there for his monthly meeting with Statorius, the Century’s Tesserarius in charge of the duty rosters and guard details. He was surprised to find Decimus sitting in his chair at the table.
    “Decimus, what are you doing here?” he asked, an eyebrow raised.
    “I was going to ask you the same question,” Optio Flaccus interrupted, walking down the hall with a folded note in his hand which he handed to the Decanus.
    “What is this?”
    “Proculus put out that we need to start rotating the men through on furlough,” Flaccus explained. “And since you and Magnus are both from the Ostia area, you two are going together. There’s a river barge leaving at dawn tomorrow; take it to Massila, where you will catch a transport ship heading to Ostia.”
     
    “Home,” Magnus mused. His pack was laid out on his bed as he stuffed it with everything he wanted to take with him. “How long’s it been?”
    “Four years next month,” Artorius replied as he opened his trunk to see what he would need to take with him. There were extra tunics, socks, his razor, hygiene kit, and something he had not expected to find. At the bottom, covered in dust, was a silver medallion on a leather cord. At first he did not know what it was. He grabbed the cord and held the medallion into the light. An image of the goddess Diana was engraved on one side. Artorius let out a sigh and closed his eyes as he remembered where it had come from.
    “What’s that then?” Magnus asked, glancing over his shoulder.
    “Camilla gave this to me…a long time ago.” Indeed it had been six years since Camilla had given him the medallion. She had made him promise that he would wear it everywhere, to protect him from harm. It was a promise he had not kept. No sooner had he left Ostia that the medallion had ended up in his pack, forgotten. He was amazed that it had not been lost over the years.
    “Camilla,” Magnus said, his brow furrowed in contemplation, “isn’t she that sultry twat you so thoroughly violated the last time we were in Rome?” Artorius gave a short laugh.
    “That would be her,” he replied. “One of them anyway. She and I grew up together; she promised to wait for me…” his voice trailed off. Without another word, he absentmindedly shoved the medallion into his pack, wrapped up in a pair of his socks.
    At length he and Magnus were finished packing. They each str apped on