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.Whereas we !He grinned and glanced at his watch. Let s stop for a moment, comrades.I want you towatch something.He nodded at Rusticanus.The first centurion picked up the remote control lying on anearby table and turned on the television.The huge screen on the far wall suddenly bloomedwith color and sound.Lots of sound.Wincing, Rusticanus hastily turned down the volume.In collusion with Gaius, he hadalready set the right channel, but he hadn t tested the sound.The legionnaires were transfixed.Gaping, many of them. This scene is from Beijing, said Vibulenus. The small square the one that looks small,from the camera s height is called Tien-an-Men.The scene on the television suddenly shifted to another city. This is Shanghai, he said.Another scene. Guangzhou.Another.Another.Another. Nanjing.Hangzhou.Chongqing.China was on the march.Every one of those great cities was packed with millions of people,marching through its streets and squares, chanting slogans, holding banners aloft. It s not just China, said Rusticanus.His voice, like that of Gaius, was soft.Another city.More millions, marching, chanting, holding banners aloft. Bombay.Another. Paris.Another.Another.More and more and more.Sao Paolo.Moscow.Los Angeles.Lagos.Ciudad de Mexico.On and on and on.A different scene came on the screen.Not a city, now, but a hillside in farm country.Thehillside itself and everywhere the camera panned was covered with an enormous throng ofpeople.Speeches were being given from a stand atop the ridge. That is called Cemetery Ridge, announced Rusticanus. It is near the small town ofGettysburg in the North American province called Pennsylvania.These people have gatheredhere to participate in what they are calling the Rededication.Harshly: Most of you ignorant sods won t understand why they are calling it that.But youcan find out easily enough by reading a short speech which a man named Lincoln gave therenot so very long ago.He was a stinking politician, of course.None of the legionnaires, Ainsley noted, even responded to the jibe.They were still utterlymesmerized by the scenes on the television.The historian glanced around the room.Its other occupants, mostly aliens, were equallymesmerized the Gha, Quartilla, the two Medics and the Pilot.But only on the faces of the legionnaires did tears begin to fall.They, like the others, were transfixed by the unforgettable images of sheer, raw, massivehuman power.But it was not the sight of those millions upon millions of determined peoplewhich brought tears to Roman eyes.It was the sudden, final knowledge that the world s mostlong-lost exiles had never been forgotten.One thing was common, in all those scenes.The people varied, in their shape and color andmanner of dress.The slogans were chanted in a hundred languages, and the words written on amultitude of banners came in a dozen scripts.But everywhere on a hillside in Pennsylvania; a huge square in China the samestandards were held aloft, dominating the banners surrounding them.Many of those standardshad been mass-produced for the occasion; many probably most crafted by hand.The eagle standard of the legions.Gaius rose.Like Rusticanus, he also adopted a theatrical pose, pointing dramatically at thescreen. There are twelve billion people alive in the world today, he said. And all of them, as one,have chosen that standard as the symbol of their new crusade.The tribune s eyes swept the room, finally settling on the scarred face of Clodius Afer. Will history record that the first Romans failed the last? he demanded.Rusticanus switched off the screen.For a moment, the room was silent.Then, Clodius Aferrose and (theatrically) drained his goblet.Theatrically, belched. I never said I wouldn t do it, he announced.With a dramatic wave at the screen: Besides, I couldn t face my ancestors, knowing that all those innocent lads went off to warwithout proper training from dramatic scowl proper legionnaires.Very dramatic scowl: The poor sorry bastards.XIII« ^ »Is this where you died? asked Ainsley.For a moment, he thought Gaius hadn t heard him.Then, with no expression on his face,the former tribune shrugged. I don t think so, Robert.I think we pretty much razed thatfortress after we took it.I don t remember, of course, since I was dead when it happened.Gaius turned his head, examining the walls and crenellations of the castle they werestanding on. It was much like this one, though.Probably not far from here. He gesturedtoward the native notables standing respectfully a few yards away. You could ask them.I msure they remember where it was.Ainsley glanced at the short, furry beings. They wouldn t remember.It was so long ago.Almost two thousand years, now.That was one of your first campaigns. They ll know, stated Gaius firmly. They re a very intelligent species, Robert.They havewritten records going back well before then.And that was the battle that sealed their fate.He scanned the fortress more carefully, now, urging Ainsley to join him in that inspectionwith a little hand gesture. You see how well built this is, Robert? These people are not barbarians.They weren t then,either.It was a bit of a shock to us, at the time, coming up against them.We d forgotten howtough smart and civilized soldiers can be, even when they re as small as these folk.His face grew bleak. Two thousand years, Robert.For two thousand years these poorbastards have been frozen solid by the stinking Doges.The ruinous trade relations the Guildforced down their throat have kept them there. It wasn t your fault, Gaius, murmured Ainsley. I didn t say it was
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