Chapter 1
The Banished Druid
Excited that the hour for magic had come, Aelius opened the door at the first knock.
“Hurry,” his master called from inside the house, even before the night-time visitor had entered. “Shut the door.” His voice sounded like a growl to the eleven-year-old Aelius.
A rugged-looking man came in, stealing a furtive look at the dark alley outside.
Aelius followed his gaze. It was the first watch of the night, and the alley was deserted. In the distance, he saw shapes of boats, some pulling into the Tiber’s banks, others still on the river, arriving home in the darkness.
Fishermen returning after the day’s catch.
Everyone was busy. Nobody would have seen the man come. Aelius led him into the chamber where his master waited.
The master was hanging satchels on a wall. The satchels were stuffed with a strange plant whose leaves rustled even though there was no breeze in the chamber. Dots of lights danced around the plant, in tune with the movements of its leaves, forming a mysterious green halo.
The man watched the plant with a look of mingled awe and fear.
“My wife sent me here,” he said, clearing his throat. He held a small squirming bundle in his muscular arms. “Are you the one they call…the Banished Druid?”
“Shh… Don’t speak that name,” the master growled again. “You came alone? No one followed you here?”
“No. No one.”
The druid heaved a visible sigh of relief. His overgrown, unkempt white hair waved softly, despite the stillness in the chamber.
“Make haste,” he said, pointing to the bundle in the man’s arms. “Show me your boy.”
The man clutched the bundle tighter, as if unwilling to part with it.
“Are you sure we are safe here?” he said, his eyes wide with suspicion. “Who is this boy?”
The druid waved a hand. “Just a slave. Ignore him.”
Aelius lowered his gaze. But he trembled with anticipation. Magic is about to begin.
A rickety three-legged table was propped against the wall behind the Banished Druid. Three pots sat on this table. A fire burned under the middle pot, while the other two emitted a strong aroma of pine leaves. An old vase in the corner had been emptied for the occasion, stuffed with straw and twigs that were set on fire. The smoke made the chamber hazy.
A brazier in the other corner glowed dimly, casting the chamber in its soft light. Lazy spirals of green smoke swirled from it, gently mixing with the pine-laden air.
Aelius knew these were just for show. The real magic was yet to begin. It would take place inside a battered and bruised cauldron that he had dragged into the chamber earlier that day and scrubbed until his master had approved.
It’s as old as the master himself.
According to the master’s instructions, he had filled the cauldron with water till it reached just the correct height.
The Banished Druid beckoned the visitor closer. “Quickly now. Give me your baby.”
The man hesitated for a moment, then leaned forward. Aelius noticed the outline of a gladius under his tunic. Ah, a legionary!
As the legionary handed his baby over, his gladius brushed against the druid’s thigh.
The druid flinched, nearly dropping the baby. “Careful with your weapon. I don’t want any accidents.”
The legionary nodded and shrank back.
The Banished Druid placed the baby on the table behind him. The baby flailed its arms within the confines of its clothing.
The Banished Druid seemed oblivious to the baby’s discomfort. With jerky hands, he removed the layers covering it. The baby bawled loudly as the Banished Druid disrobed it.
Aelius crept closer. So, this is the lucky baby.
“What’s its name?” he asked, his childish curiosity overriding his deference as a slave.
“Julius,” the legionary replied curtly.
The Banished Druid shot Aelius an angry glance. “Quiet.” He hit him on his arm. “Now bring me…the other one.”
Aelius leaped into action before the master could strike him again. He opened a small wooden chest beside the smoking brazier and lifted the Other One out.
The Other One was wrapped in rags. Aelius gently placed it next to Julius on the table. Unlike Julius, the Other One lay still.
“Uhh,” the druid grunted, as if unconcerned. But his eyes gleamed in the firelight. Aelius knew that look.
The druid began peeling the rags off the Other One. His movements showed care and reverence, as if something valuable lay within the tattered bundle.
From inside the rags emerged another boy. A thick mop of curly black hair crowned its head. Its eyes were closed, its body unmoving and blue.
Aelius knew that the Other One was dead. But he felt no revulsion toward it. Only one thought occupied his mind, filling his heart with excitement.
Magic is about to begin.
After stripping the dead boy completely naked, the Banished Druid stepped toward a wall where tools of all shapes and sizes were strung haphazardly. He ran both hands over them and selected a sickle.
Past the rows of sickles hung two satchels overflowing with a bright green plant. It was a curious-looking plant. It bore no flowers. Instead, its angular leaves were arranged in a circle, like petals of a flower. Aelius had counted them—seven leaves forming one leaf-flower. They shimmered with a mysterious glow.
Aelius rubbed his hands together.
This is the best day of my life.
Bright dots of light floated lazily in the air around the mysterious plant, making a faint buzzing sound. Aelius had tried to catch a dot of light earlier, but it stung him and buzzed away. Despite the pain in his palm, he felt free—free from the drudgery of daily chores, free from slavery itself.
The Banished Druid swung his sickle and hacked a sizable chunk of the plant from a satchel.
As he brought the plant to the cauldron, several dots of light detached from the satchel, churning around the cut green plant, as if breathing life into the leaves. A sinuous sparkling trail of light glowed in the wake of the plant’s journey from the satchel to the cauldron.
Aelius held his breath, following every move his master made.
The Banished Druid gently crushed the leaves with his hands and sprinkled them into the water-laden cauldron. The accompanying dots of light paused when they hit the water’s surface. They swirled and danced, as if reluctant to part from the leaves.
Julius’ father gaped at the happenings. “Is this the plant you told my wife about,” he said, “that will…that will make my son noble and pure?”
“So it is,” the Banished Druid said without taking his eyes off the cauldron. “This magical plant will pluck evil from your son’s heart and transfer it to the dead boy.”
Aelius became alert. That was his cue. “Where did you find the plant, Master?” he asked innocently, as the druid had trained him to say.
White silky hair danced atop the druid’s head, charged with a life force of their own. A dark look flashed in his eyes.
He emptied the last remnants of the plant into the cauldron with a flourish, clapping his hands.
“This plant, you ask?” His voice was tinged with mystery. “This is no ordinary plant. It belongs to no man, but to a statue. A magnificent statue, a dangerous statue…a magical statue. No one knows where it stands. No one…but I.”
The legionary frowned. “Surely you can tell me where the statue is? After all, its plant will remove evil from my son’s heart. I have the right to know.”
The Banished Druid’s hair stopped dancing. Instead, they jerked straight up, making him look taller, more menacing. His bushy mustache and long pointy beard bristled. He waved a warning finger at Julius’ father.
“This secret is not for the likes of you, Legionary. Only the worthy, mind you, only the truly worthy can stand in the presence of the magnificent statue. It has chosen me to reveal its secret. Me. No one else.”
With furious movements, he churned the water in the cauldron, drowning the green leaves. As the leaves sank, the dots of light pierced the surface of the water and followed them. They darted underwater in fish like movements.
The water in the cauldron started bubbling and sputtering, turning a brilliant green.
“A few moments more,” the Banished Druid said. His hair had settled, no longer standing on their ends. “I have put just the right amount of plant for your boy. Any more, and he will die. Any less, and evil will not be removed from his heart.”
Aelius felt his body tingle with delight. Even though he hated being a slave, overworked and unable to play with other boys, moments like these compensated for his drudgery—magical moments, as he called them.
Some day I’ll find all of the master’s secrets.
That day’s magic was the pinnacle of his master’s achievement. In the past, Aelius had seen him experiment with rats and rabbits—trying to transfer evil from live animals to the dead.
For many months, when the master had met with failure, he would disappear into his library for days. Aelius was sure that the master was not eating or sleeping, so engrossed was he in solving the problem.
However, two weeks ago he had succeeded in transferring evil from a live baby goat to a dead one.
That night the two of them had feasted. The three-legged table was piled with plates of juicy olives, lobsters and fresh oysters.
The master had insisted, “Eat! Eat all you want. Eat till you burst.”
Being a dutiful slave, Aelius had obeyed his master to the letter. He had eaten, and he had burst.
Satiating memories of that night coursed through Aelius, but he held a doubt. Would the goat magic work on human boys?
Aelius wanted to ask his master, but then thought better of it. If the master was confident, then so was he. The master had even worn a new black robe and made his eyes fierce with kohl. There might be another feast coming up tonight, if all went well. Aelius felt his mouth water.
Meanwhile, the Banished Druid had been droning on, oblivious to the gluttonous thoughts running in Aelius’ mind.
“…months of perfecting my technique.” He stirred the hissing, sputtering mixture rapidly with his hands. A thick blood-red pigment oozed from the shredded leaves and purposefully dispersed into the surrounding liquid to overwhelm the green. “This is my moment of glory. My genius will be rewarded with success.”
Red fumes shot from the cauldron, zigzagging upward like lightning, and crashed on the ceiling, filling the chamber with red smoke.
“The potion—it is ready,” the Banished Druid said.
Without warning, he reached for Julius and the dead boy. He grabbed their ankles and swung them off the table, holding them heads down.
Julius let out a piercing wail and thrashed his limbs, while the dead boy hung silently. The legionary stood at a distance, every muscle tense.
With measured movements, the druid dipped the boys into the cauldron. First their eyes went under; then their noses, mouths, and chins disappeared under the red potion that bubbled and popped on receiving the boys in its embrace.
Cauldron Twins!
It felt like a fitting name for Julius and the dead boy—one unsuspecting, the other helpless.
The druid slid the boys further into the potion till only their legs stayed outside. Julius’ struggles waned. He hung as limp as the dead boy dangling beside him. His father’s face was white, his fist tight around the grip of his gladius.
“And now we wait,” the Banished Druid said, a content smile lighting his face.
Viscous red currents erupted from Julius and swam toward the dead boy under the surface of the potion. Red vapors shot out from Julius into the air, following the currents.
Dots of light swirling underwater became lightning. They crashed against the walls of the cauldron, some bouncing within the potion, while others leaped out to fill the chamber with exploding beams of ragged light.
The cauldron wobbled as a thunderclap boomed inside. The potion sputtered. And the Cauldron Twins swayed under the onslaught of forces that defied the understanding of ordinary men.
Aelius stood amazed, observing the majesty of magic.
“Transfer of evil. It has begun,” the Banished Druid said, holding on to the ankles of the boys. He turned to the legionary. “See those red waves moving away from your Julius? That is evil leaving your son’s heart and entering the dead boy.”
Julius’ father peered into the cauldron. Aelius leaned in too.
The dead boy jerked suddenly, splashing the bubbling red potion.
“That…that thing—” Julius’ father said, “is it alive?”
“It’s a temporary phase,” the Banished Druid said. “It will pass.” The corners of his mouth lifted in suppressed laughter.
The master is enjoying himself.
Aelius remembered the same thing had happened with the dead goat—it had jerked and splashed, then came alive while the master had held it suspended upside down in the potion.
Why isn’t the master saying that the dead boy will come alive?
The dead boy’s movements became vigorous. Both arms appeared from under the potion, thrashing against the rim of the cauldron.
Julius’ father stiffened. “What’s happening?”
“He is receiving evil from your son,” the Banished Druid said without taking his eyes off the two boys.
Julius’ father leaned further into the cauldron. As he did so, the blade of his gladius slid over the rim and dipped into the bubbling potion.
Aelius gasped. He couldn’t tell why, but he felt that the potion had drawn the gladius into its liquid lure. Something bad would surely happen if he did not intervene.
He nudged Julius’ father and pointed at the submerged gladius. The legionary started. With a swift movement, he slid the dripping gladius out of the cauldron and stepped back.
“It will soon be over,” the Banished Druid said. “Once the red current stops flowing between the boys, the transfer of evil will be complete.”
He held the two boys steady as the booms and flashes in the cauldron did their best to spit them out.
Julius’ father pointed to the dead boy. “What will you do with…that?”
“Let it drown in the cauldron,” the Banished Druid said, his face tense. “It cannot be allowed to live. Its heart contains only malice. Not a sliver of goodness left. Jupiter alone knows what havoc it would wreak upon Rome if it were allowed to live.”
“You’ll kill a small boy?” the legionary persisted.
“The dead cannot be killed,” the druid said, as the dead boy struggled even harder, lifting its body out of the potion. The Banished Druid turned toward Aelius. “Bring a fresh set of clothes for Julius. Go on.”
Aelius nodded, ready for the next part of the plan. The master had given him an important role to play. He would not let his master down.
* * *
Aelius darted into the adjoining chamber, his chest swelling with pride. He stopped at the far end and crouched beneath a rotting table. Running his fingers along the wooden floor, he identified two small triangular notches. He dug the tips of his fingers in the notches and pulled upward.
The first time when his master had shown him this trick, Aelius was thrilled. “It’s a trapdoor. See how it opens. Watch carefully, Slave,” his master had said. “No one must know my secret. Only you and I. You can keep a secret, can’t you?”
Aelius had nodded vigorously. He liked secrets, and felt important on becoming the Keeper of the Master’s Secret.
The trapdoor budged, lifting ever so slowly. A tiny gap cracked open, followed by a deep yawning blackness. He slid his hand under the edge of the trapdoor and pulled, revealing a flight of stairs.
Taking a deep breath, Aelius descended the steps. Darkness grew around him, but he was not afraid. The master had made him practice many times. Aelius walked down the crudely hewn wooden steps and entered his master’s library.
The Banished Druid had dug the library himself. Beginning as a large hole in the ground, over the years it had grown to the size of a chamber. He used it to store his large collections of scrolls and tablets filled with mysteries and magic.
Aelius was forbidden to touch his master’s scrolls. It hardly mattered, as he could not read. He got his thrills on seeing what the master did with plants and animals, and colors, light, and smoke.
Aelius made his way between the rows of wooden shelves bursting with scrolls. Beyond the shelves, he found the contraption the master had designed.
The contraption was a strong rope arranged in a system of pulleys, cleverly concealed under woodwork and masonry. It led to the floor above, all the way to the entrance door, where it ran hugging the edge and went out through a hole in the lintel. Once outside, the rope traveled a short distance along the mud-colored wall, held in place by hooks, and ended tied to an ornamental boat.
The metal boat rested on a wooden plaque painted with crashing waves. The boat was not a part of the plaque, but had been camouflaged into the design for the master’s ruse.
Aelius pulled the rope, just how the master had made him practice, and released. Immediately, he heard a thump. The boat had struck the plaque.
This is fun.
Three times more he tugged on the rope. Three loud thumps rattled the plaque outside.
Silence fell in the chamber above.
Anxious moments later, he heard the muffled voice of his master. “It’s them… The latrons. They’ve found me.”
“Who? How did they—?”
“They are breaking down the door. Quick. You must run.”
The master’s plan is working well. Aelius beamed with satisfaction. I’m a good slave.
“But, is it done? Has evil been removed?” Julius’ father said, his voice shaking. “Is my son noble and pure?”
“Didn’t you see evil leave your son and enter the dead boy? Hurry, for Jupiter’s sake.”
Aelius didn’t know why the master wanted the legionary to leave with baby Julius in such a hurry. But the comedy and the confusion delighted him.
He pulled on the rope twice more, harder than ever, knowing the effect it was having on the drama above. Hurried footfalls rushed to another part of the house.
In his mind’s eye, Aelius could see Julius’ father climbing through one of the windows at the back of the house, and the master hastily handing Julius to him.
The chaos died down soon enough, and the chamber above fell silent. The master would soon be yelling for him to clean the cauldron. Aelius climbed the stairs and emerged through the trapdoor.
In the main chamber, the Banished Druid was cradling the “dead boy” in his arms. He had wrapped the boy in a clean sheet and was rocking him gently.
“…and you are my masterpiece.”
The dead boy had a pink glow on his face, with just a hint of the earlier blue. He made cooing noises and tugged the Banished Druid’s ragged beard.
Dead boy—alive! Just like the dead goat.
No wonder the master wanted to get rid of Julius and his father.
Something caught his eyes. “What’s this?” Aelius exclaimed. He pointed to a strange mark on the boy’s forearm.
The mark was a brilliant ring of gold with seven radiating arms. The seven arms glowed red-gold on the dainty skin.
The Banished Druid’s eyes shone with pride as he held the dead boy close to his chest. “That is the mark of the magnificent statue.”
“So the strange plant and the dots of light belong to the magnificent statue?”
The master nodded happily, while the dead boy played with his beard.
Ah, the master used the magnificent statue’s plant to make the dead boy come alive.
It all made sense to Aelius—the strange plant, dots of light, transfer of life inside the cauldron, and now the mark of the magnificent statue.
“Let’s give the dead boy a name, Master?” he said.
As if in response, the dead boy tugged hard on the Banished Druid’s beard. Aelius smiled.
A loud thump on the door made him jump.
The Banished Druid grunted. “Who’s pulling on the rope now? Bring him here.”
Aelius sprinted, rushed through the trapdoor and descended into an eerie silence. The rope-contraption lay still. No one was in the library.
Two more thumps banged on the door above, louder than the ones Aelius had produced.
Moments later, hinges creaked, and the door crashed to the floor.
Footsteps filled the chamber above. Many of them.
Aelius froze. Who are these men?
Fear squeezed his heart.
“Are you ready to change your name once more?” a vicious voice demanded.
He must be their leader.
“Change my name?” The master’s voice trembled.
“The Gauls banished you once. Now we Romans banish you again. Forever. Today we change your name to the ‘Twice-Banished Druid’. How about that, old fool?”
There was raucous laughter.
“What’s this?” the same rough voice said. “A boy? Give him to me.”
“He’s not for you,” the master cried. “This boy is special.”
“Special, you say?”
Sounds of scuffling filled the chamber. The dead boy wailed.
“Don’t harm the boy. I beg you,” the master said. “You…you don’t understand.”
“The hour of punishment has come, Twice-Banished Druid.” It was the same voice. “You were told to stop magic. But you didn’t.”
Aelius stayed rooted to his spot.
A vigorous churn of air came from the chamber above. Aelius felt a sudden surge of hope.
Is the master doing magic? Will he escape?
Then he heard a dull thud. More thuds followed.
The dead boy howled loudly, adding to the sounds of violence.
Hot liquid dripped on Aelius’ face. A retching sensation grabbed his throat.
My master…he is dead.
Tears streamed down his face, mixing with the master’s blood.
The thuds had stopped. The dead boy was still bawling.
“My wife will love this boy,” the leader growled, though now there was a gentleness in his voice. “I’ve rescued him from the Twice-Banished Druid.”
His comrades laughed again.
Murderers…
“What shall we do with the Twice-Banished Druid?” one of the men asked.
“Throw his body from the Tarpeian rock. Just like the old days. The senator will love that touch.”
Footfalls left the chamber above. The murderers took his master’s body away—a dragging sound that Aelius knew would stay etched in his memory for years to come.
Then there was silence, broken only by the sound of blood splattering on the ground.
Images of his master getting clubbed by the latrons flashed in Aelius’ mind. He shut his eyes, but the horrific sounds and visions became even more vivid. Even though death and violence were commonplace in Rome, the murder of his own master unsettled Aelius.
My master did magic. My master died.
Aelius had so loved magic, even pined for it. And now magic had betrayed his master.
“Magic is death,” Aelius whispered.
Shaken to his core, his face wet with blood and tears, he slumped to the floor beside the expanding pool of his master’s blood.
Squeezing his eyes tight, eleven-year-old Aelius mumbled over and over to himself, “Magic is evil. Magic is death. Magic is evil. Magic is…”
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