Eyes of a bright and unnatural blue looked at Marfisa from the front door, and a small creature stepped into the shadows cast by the fey lamp, then emerged with a confident stride into the reddish light.   

It was no more than a metre tall and had the appearance of a child... I suppose you have guessed what it was: stouter than a human child, high forehead, small nose and ears that were long, broad and pointed... it was a catizus. 

He had short, golden-blonde hair and snow-white skin, typical of the catizi from the distant island of Thule. 

"Rolandus! You gave me a shock," said Marfisa, to which laughing Rolandus replied: "Me? I am certainly not the one who sneaks in at night like a thief." 

Marfisa smiled, but Rolandus' face grew serious, and he said: "Turn off the light. It is not good to keep it on longer than necessary. 

Marfisa removed the candle and placed it in another candleholder not too far away, and the room was restored to an appearance more befitting something that was meant to be on this earth. It was in this whiter light that Rolandus noticed something.   

"Were you crying?" 

"...!"  

Marfisa instinctively brought her wrist to her cheek, surprised she still had tears to wipe away.   

"No!" said instinctively Marfisa, but her voice betrayed a certain fragility.   

Rolandus gave her a smile and headed for the kitchen, saying: "Come. I'll fix you something sweet. I guess you haven't eaten yet." 

The catizus took a stool and stood on it. He threw some shavings on the wood and lit it. Then he added some coal dust to raise the temperature of the flame. 

While waiting for the fire to get hot enough, he prepared a mixture of wheat flour, sesame seeds, sea water and honey, and fried it in oil in a frying pan. 

When it was just right, he poured more honey on the pancake and served it to Marfisa. Then he sat down on the only chair with two cushions. 

Marfisa looked at Rolandus and then at the pancake.   

"Come on, I know you well," said Rolandus. "I know you need it." 

Marfisa said nothing, but began to eat the pancake, letting its sweet taste change her mood. Rolandus, on the other hand, looked at her without saying anything. After she had emptied her plate, Marfisa felt like telling Rolandus everything. She described everything in detail, revealing things she would only reveal to a few.   

Rolandus stood in silence, not too surprised at the curiosity Madalgarius had aroused in Marfisa. It was natural that a person with fey objects would capture Marfisa's imagination, but to make her fall in love to the point of tears... that was something even Rolandus had never thought possible. 

He knew what could make Marfisa's eyes shine. He had seen her several times in the grip of an enthusiasm that could only be described as divinely inspired. But that a man could make her eyes shine was something he personally found unlikely. Lovers fell before Marfisa like autumn leaves, but this Madalgarius remained. 

Rolandus had never seen Marfisa think of anyone with such a light in her eyes.   

In a way, he was glad that Marfisa had fallen in love, nor was he surprised that she had reacted with such pride, to the point of ruining everything. 

"This Madalgarius has gone in search of the tree depicted in this cup," said Rolandus, turning his gaze to the fey cup. "You can still catch up with him. After all, you've always wanted to find nymphs, or something related to their world... or maybe you can catch up with him and stop him before this adventure of his leads him to an end worse than death." 

Marfisa looked at the cup, while Rolandus looked at the golden apple on the table. The skin was of incredible realism. There were even the imperfections one would expect from real fruit. Yet it was solid gold. 

Marfisa got up, took the apple and went to her own room.   

"Marfisa! Is it so hard for you to admit that you are in love?" said Rolandus, but Marfisa did not answer him.   

She said goodbye with a few words, reached her room and fell on her bed in despair, such was the pain she felt inside.     

"I don't want to fall in love, I don't want to. Not like this. Not like a mere weeping maiden clinging to the pillow," said Marfisa, clutching the covers. "He's just a man. I can find plenty of them. I haven't lost anything that I can't find again, but Madalgarius still lingers in my mind."   

She repeated these words to herself over and over again, but nothing could stop the Swan of Lugdunum, this Senator of Rome, from crying in bed like a miserable girl. 

She tossed and turned but found no peace. She clutched at her pillow and crumpled under the covers; such was the pain that gripped her. She who had thrown so many men to the ground was now crying in bed, as men do when they receive a rejection from the woman they love.   

"Damn..." said Marfisa, raising her arm to the sky, "...why do I have no defence against this enemy in my heart? Why can I not brandish my sword and wage war against love? He burns me and I cannot burn him in return, so unjust is his nature and honour". 

Marfisa said this until she was interrupted by a laugh. She glanced over the blanket and saw a beautiful green-haired maiden gazing at the stars.   

"Huh? How melodramatic you are!" said I.   

I stood there on the balcony railing, looking at the stars.     

"Deh! There she is again, the cause of all my misfortune, all my evil and all my ruin..." said Marfisa, "...damned witch." 

"Mah! I did nothing..." I said, raising my hands in an act of innocence, "...I just crashed a party, remember?"   

"Yeah! Just like you did with my father when he was young..." said Marfisa irritated, "...you snuck into his house and the rest is history."   

"Again. If you're thinking about that little episode with your father, I swear I had very little to do with it. Besides, I didn't crash a party with him," said I, and I mean that sincerely. Volusius was home alone that day, "I just stole your father's pyjamas and fell asleep in his living room... then I sent him on an adventure." 

"..."   

Marfisa curled up in the blankets and I put my hand on her shoulder. 

"Well? What are you going to do with this young fox? I believe Medulfa has already left Rome."   

Marfisa reached for the mysterious golden apple Madalgarius had left behind. 

"You damned witch, you've won..." said Marfisa as she left the bed, "...but if you're going to write epic prose, it had better be good." 

"Oh, don't worry about that..." I replied, "...I've already got plenty of ideas and plot hooks. Now it's up to you." 

So I replied and, as mysteriously as I had arrived, I left Marfisa alone, who could only say: "Damned witch!" 

Marfisa looked around. The room was empty now, there was no sign that I had ever been there. She took a deep breath and wiped away her tears. She had more to think about than the trouble I would cause her. She did not care to wait any longer. 

Waiting would destroy her. The fact that she knew Medulfa was also after Madalgarius didn't help. She had no intention anymore of tossing and turning on the bed while her soul gnawed at her. A moment felt like a hundred years, and she could think of nothing else but Madalgarius.   

Marfisa arranged her weapons and armour, intending to sneak away under the cover of night. There was a sound of robes and other items being jumbled into a backpack. Marfisa shuffled and moved from one end of the room to the other, forgetting this and that, only to return for the missing item.  

In all this hustle and bustle, Rolandus waited for her outside the door until he realised it was time to intervene. He smiled and stopped Marfisa's hand, then climbed into her bed and tidied up her rucksack for her. 

"Haste is a bad ally, you know that?" said Rolandus, finishing putting the last things in place. 

"So? Where are we going?" said Rolandus.   

"We?" 

"You don't think I'm going to let you embark on such an undertaking alone?" 

They went into the kitchen, where the crackling fire Rolandus had lit was waiting. Marfisa hesitated to tell him, but finally opened her mouth and said, "I'm going to the island of Peuce, there's a community of catizi there. There are things I need to investigate..." 

"Yes, your Madalgarius said he would seek information from them." 

"He is not my... what do you know about the catizi of Peuce? Is there anything you know about them?" 

"Apart from the fact that they are Catizi? Not much. Not much about Thule either, apart from memories of my father's youth. But the island of Peuce has its share of mysterious legends. My father once told me that merchants travelling from the Suebian Sea to Pontus Eusinus via the rivers of Scythia dock at Peuce before setting sail for Byzantium, but only the catizi. All other races dock at the more southerly Tomis. If rumour is to be believed, strange rituals are practised there."  

"Rumours?" 

"Wait a minute! Are there rumours of mysterious and unnatural things that I know about but that the great Marfisa ignores?" said Rolandus, genuinely surprised. 

"Did you know that I can pick you up and throw you out of the window with just one arm?" said Marfisa, to which Rolandus could only reply with a laugh. 

"Peuce is one of the seven oldest catizi communities..." began Rolandus, "and its history goes back to the time of Alexander the Great, around the fifth century after the founding of Rome: when the young Alexander defeated Syrmus, the king of the Triballi.  

After conquering Thrace, the Macedonian king threatened to push further north and forced King Sirmus to take refuge on the island of Peuce. Alexander pursued him, but his fleet was unable to storm the shores of the island because of the fierce resistance of the Thracians." 

"Yes, I have studied history, remember?" said Marfisa. 

Rolandus continued: "However, there is an aberrant tradition that King Sirmus sought help from the catizi, who used blasphemous rites to summon the aid of a god of the deep from the sea. Tritons emerged from the sea and, after making a pact with the catizi, helped to repel the Macedonian troops and restore King Sirmus to his kingdom. 

As a reward for their help, Sirmus gave the catizi the island of Peuce and made Halmyrans, the founder of the city of Halmyrans, king. 

After that, the Tritons swarmed up and down the lower Danube, subjugating all the peoples living along the river and allowing Halmyrans to build a mighty kingdom. If legend is to be believed, Halmyrans himself lived for more than a century thanks to his magic, but it is more likely that they were father and son, sharing the same name".  

The wood in the fireplace crackled, making Marfisa gasp, and then she said: "If they had all this power, why did their kingdom disappear without a trace?" 

"I suppose you shouldn't found a kingdom with power that isn't yours. However, the Tritons asked for something in return. They wanted women to mate with to increase their numbers. Since they could only mate with humans, the catizi accepted this arrangement. 

The children born of these unions were born as normal children, but how shall I put it... as they grew up, they rotted in a way. Their bodies became flabby, their eyes bulged, and in appearance they became more and more like the parent that came from the sea. The sea itself was calling them.   

As you can imagine, when the Tritons began to replace the humans of the lower Danube, the humans themselves began to see the arrangement as less than advantageous, despite the large amounts of gold the Tritons had begun to promise. 

"I would see!" said Marfisa. 

"Halmyrans, fearing the loss of his power, sought help from the nymphs of Hercynia, who agreed to mate with the Tritons and mysterious creatures they called Earthworms, who lived under Peuce at the time. It is said that these mating rites were so horrific that Halmyrans went mad at the sight of them and drowned himself in the sea. 

To Halmyrans II, however, this must have seemed a small price to pay, if at all, but when he reached a certain age, he discovered the nymphs' true intentions. 

As they grew, the children born of these unions became neither tritons nor earthworms, but creatures that, though hybrid, resembled the maternal side much more than the paternal. 

A new species of nymphs and satyrs had been born, a species that could now brave the depths of the sea with impunity, without feeling the bite of cold and lack of air, thanks to the privileges granted by this unspeakable union. 

The tritons, who had gone from aspiring conquerors of the earth to having rivals in the sea, accused the catizi of manipulating them." 

From the side of the room, a mechanical bird emerged from an ancient water clock. Brass beads fell from its beak and rang out over a bell, signalling that midnight had long passed. Then there was silence. 

Marfisa felt a shiver run down her spine. 

"Wasn't that what you expected?" said Rolandus.   

"L-let's just say it doesn't look like... any of the legends I've heard about nymphs..." said Marfisa, feeling a strange grip on her soul, "... I don't know. That legend sounds... wrong." 

"Not like a cup with three suns? Let me give you a piece of advice my father gave me when he found out I was helping you investigate the Nymphs of Hercynia: do not assume that what you know about the Nymphs is true. For thousands of years, almost no one has seen them for certain.  

Nor should you assume that they perceive the world as humans do, because they look like humans. Or that you can understand them because we catizi understand humans which are different from us in appearance." 

"In any case, this is just a legend," said Marfisa. "After all, no one has ever heard of human women being impregnated by cercopes, and cercopes look much more like humans than fish-like creatures." 

"Well, catizi can do it. It's just unlikely," replied Rolandus. 

"Yes, but catizi are also more like humans than people think..." said Marfisa. 

"But who knows? Maybe there are fish-people in some Roman harbour, mating with humans until they are replaced. Perhaps one day you will discover that you have fish blood in your veins and descend into madness." 

Marfisa felt a shiver run down her spine. 

"Well... it's just a legend, right? Right?!" 

Rolandus didn't answer... even though he could be seen holding back a laugh at Marfisa's reaction. 

They made their way to Rolandus' rooms where, after a quick preparation, he slung a backpack over his shoulders. 

"So... do we have a plan, or are we going to talk to every catizus we meet?" 

"The wife of one of my brothers lives in Peuce. I am sure I can ask for her help," replied Marfisa. 

They left the imperial palaces secretly. They crossed the Tiber in silence and reached the Porta Septimiana, where there were stables. They usually housed mounts used for public transport or the postal service, but could also accommodate private mounts. 

Marfisa showed a card to the night watchman and was given Phazanius, recognisable by his shiny white coat. Marfisa took him by the bridle and led him out into the street. She grabbed his mane with her right hand and pushed herself up into the saddle, holding out her hand to Rolandus. 

Rolandus looked at Phazanius and replied: "Ah! I'm not getting on that thing. They are unreliable on top and dangerous underneath."  

"Come on! Don't be a child..." said Marfisa, taking him by the collar and sitting him on her lap, "...if anything happens, I'll make you pancakes to make up for it." 

Marfisa spurred on the reins and headed north, intending to ride until she found Madalgarius, or a trace of him. 

They disappeared over the horizon before my eyes, while from the walls of Rome I watched them leave in the light of dawn. 

Let us leave them for now: both Marfisa and Medulfa have had their fair share of emotion for tonight. We still have to greet King Pandracon of Hyperborea... and someone has to stay behind to warn their friends and relatives that they have left. 

"Uf! And then they say I'm the irresponsible one," said I. 

Sunlight illuminated roofs and houses as the streets buzzed with life. Crowds exploded around the Colosseum. 

People from all parts of the city and all walks of life crowded into the amphitheatre to watch the gladiatorial games.   

The terraces filled up. When they were full, the emperor gave the order for the games to begin, saying: "Citizens! In my opinion, you have waited long enough. Let the champions enter the arena. 

Let each fight his opponent as long as fortune or strength can sustain him. Then, as is his right, let the victor take the vanquished as his prisoner, so that the laurel wreath may remain with him until he is defeated and makes way for others".  

It had already been decided that the games would begin with the cavalry battles. The foot battles would take place in the afternoon. It is always a good idea to save what is most popular with the spectators for last. 

Everyone confirmed Volusius' decision as that of a wise and prudent master: they all praised it. The order was given, and those who wished to fight assembled in full view of the spectators. And it was ordered that the bold Xerxes should hold the arena first, while one by one they would attack him. 

Do not think, my lords, that this put Xerxes at a disadvantage, for he had much experience, both in the arena and on the battlefield. Born into a wealthy family in Syria, he had already made a name for himself in the East.  

Here is Xerxes coming down to the field, armed and magnificent to behold. No less magnificent was his great steed. He lifted his hoofs, animated to go. Now here, now there, he held the whole field. His eyes were full of fire, his bridle foamy, he growled wildly and found no place. His nostrils were puffed out, and he seemed to breathe fire. 

He was much like the bold horseman who stood above him with a bitter face. Xerxes was adorned with magnificent weapons, firm in the saddle and proud in action. Children and women, every man pointed his finger at him. He showed such bravery and strength that everyone judged him well at the sight, that no one but he would have won the prize. 

He wore a great golden eagle on his blue shield, and his crest, his cloak, his strong helmet, and his light armour were also valued as an infinite treasure. All these shining arms, set with pearls and precious stones, made him look like a majestic blue eagle with golden wings. 

So, this champion entered the arena. When he had circled it, he stood in the middle, like a tower. But already the trumpets were sounding on all sides. Horsemen came in at every corner, one more than the other, richly armed, with so many pearls and gold and jewels about them that Olympus itself would be adorned with them.  

The one who came before him, the one you see all silvered and resembling a wolf howling at the moon, was Avitus of Burdigala, champion of all Gaul. Suddenly, Xerxes moved, with such speed that he seemed like a flash in the storm. On the other side came Avitus, stirring up a storm and pointing his spear forward. 

Where the helmet met the shield, Avitus struck Xerxes; but Xerxes did not lean back, he leaned forward. Avitus' spear slipped over his head as he struck with such fury. Xerxes made him raise both legs to the sky. 

A shout went up from the stands, every man talking about how much the prize should be given to this eagle. 

Now it was the turn of the mighty Remigius of Germany. He resembled a red and gold lion and was no less powerful than Hercules. 

He came fast, but Xerxes was not slow. He struck him on the shield with such force that he too was thrown to the ground. 

Now you can imagine the pride of Xerxes' family, watching from the stands, as they saw their son dominate the arena! Sergius of Sirmium came, and as he came, he fell to the ground. 

Now it was Astulfus' turn, and I don't need to tell you how it ended.  

No, wait, he's got a magic spear. Who knows, maybe it will do him some good this time. You must know, my readers, that Astulfus fought both on horseback and on foot. He didn't care about winning, but you should have seen how magnificent he looked that day, in his wolf armour and his great oval shield. 

He blew his horn defiantly, as was his custom, and immediately charged. Last but not least was Xerxes, who showed just as much vigour. 

Gentlemen, you will remember the miraculous power of Astulfus' spear. Whoever it was aimed at felt its blade pierce him, causing a fatal distraction. Not least Xerxes, who felt a quiver in his chest at the most inopportune moment, causing him to hesitate. 

Xerxes never understood what had happened. What had caused the feeling in his chest. Nor how Astulfus had stumbled on his horse (believe me, I was there. His horse stumbled on a flat and clean arena). What was certain was that Xerxes was standing while Astulfus was lying on the ground without having been touched. 

Everyone disliked the evil case, and perhaps more than the others, Xerxes, who hoped to unseat him in person. Although he was weak and everyone laughed at his misfortune, Astulfus remained a good-hearted man who laughed at all his misfortunes. He was carried off. 

Meanwhile, Xerxes continued to duel until he was defeated by Tiridates of Armenia. As big and strong as the bear his armour represented, he knocked many others from their saddles: Avitus, Ivone, Otho and Vitellius fell, and many others of whom I shall not tell you. 

There was no gladiator so arrogant that he didn't fear this tyrant: Ganaleon, when he saw his face, secretly left the arena. 

His nephew Macarius did the same with his brother Pinabellus. Among the cousins, Dagobertus, Erbertus and Ervinus disappeared, leaving the others even faster. What to say! There was not much left of the house of Magantiacum, and their silvery haired members. 

Only Balduinus, the illegitimate son of his Ganaleon, remained, either out of courage or shame or, more likely, because he was unaware of the others' departure. 

Let's leave Balduinus alone, for brave as he is, no one expects one who is not yet a man to enter the arena. Let us return to this champion of Armenia, who leads such a storm across the field. His strength seems incredible. He carries a large tree trunk as a spear. Nor is the terrible steed of his less, which, in the deep square of the arena, breaks the stones, makes the earth tremble, when in its course everything unravels. 

It was not long before there were no challengers. None from Lusitania, Africa or Dacia dared to step forward. In all the hoofbeats and dust, Tiridates was quick to say: "Is there no one left to challenge me? Now that Xerxes has fallen, have you lost your nerve? Well, there is a reason why people here in the arena prefer to see those who duel on foot rather than on horseback: because on horseback there are few people here who know how to stay". 

I don't know why Astulfus took it so badly, but I do know that he returned to the arena immediately. Not very cheerful, and with a strangely serious face. 

Our young hero didn't think he could win against Tiridates. He had only the pure and good intention of doing his duty for the honour of the Empire. He stood tall on his saddle and looked like a proud knight. All who knew him well said: "Oh gods! Send us other help!" 

I will not tell you how many in the galleries put their hands to their faces. We know they all did. Nor how much Tiridates laughed, who was not a little tempted to explain that such insults were part of the spectacle and that he meant no harm. But why not? Some people learn their lesson the hard way. Then let Astulfus learn it that way. 

 Astulfus bowed his head nobly before the consuls, senators and all the spectators: "People of Rome, I have come to throw this boaster to the ground, for I understand that you have a desire to do so." 

 So said Astulfus, and the people responded with a show of appreciation, for with Astulfus on the field, there would be much fun to be had. 

But Astulfus ignored the laughter and turned to Tiridates of Armenia, threatening him so blatantly that the poor man could not help but laugh. Only one man did not laugh, for he had something else on his mind. Pandracon watched the scene from above, ready for his moment of glory.  

But let us end it here for now, for our king of Hyperborea and Alania would appreciate being the last of your thoughts. Let him meditate on how to take action, for soon there will be little left of the dispute between Astulfus and Tiridates.