Chapter 1

A wind rose from across the sea. It was a subtle wind, a wind that had made a long journey, to reach these distant shores. A wind that told all, that the warm days of summer had finally arrived. From the southeast it blew and billowed, making its way across the sea. From lands far away it came, always moving onward. From North Africa, Egypt, and beyond it had come, to carry its warmth to those who lived upon these northwestern shores.

 

Kal stood looking out at the endlessly rolling sea. The embrace of the wind was like the fleeting affection of a lover, holding onto him for a short time then softly moving on. It carried the salt tangy smell of brine with it that filled his nostrils. Kal was a tall man with broad shoulders and a strong build. His blonde hair was cut short, and his face was clean shaven. The most striking of his features were his eyes, a deep penetrating blue. 

He wore a short, tan colored tunic that hung down to just above his knees, and was belted at the waist with a red sash. Tan trousers, a hooded cloak, and good leather boots made up the rest of the ensemble. Kal had chosen to design his gear himself, and the clothes had been fashioned for him by the most reputable tailor he could find. The tailor, who although charged an enormous amount, didn’t drone on about the latest fashions, and made what he asked for without question. Kal preferred not to wear the long tunic or toga that were the more commonly worn apparel in the city. With back straight and chin high, he stood motionless before the wind.

Absently, he pulled the hood of his cloak up to shield his eyes from the glare of the morning sun. Kal had been in this city, that the locals called “Massalia”, for nearly three months. He had visited this city several times before. Although “before” was now only a relative term. The city had been called Marseille at that time, and had been the second largest city in France.

That of course had been another age, another time, and another life. Three months ago, everything had changed.

“Was it three months ago?” Kal thought to himself. “Or is it yet to come?”

Kal had once been Crafty Kal Hudson; a respected Wall Street economist. He had graduated with honors from Harvard and worked hard to build his reputation as the most cunning and tenacious man in his field. Then on vacation in Marseille, he had gone to bed and had woken up here, in this time and place. The year was 108 AD, on what he considered to be his calendar. Marseille was Massalia, a busy commercial trading port of the Roman Empire.

Kal slowly turned from his observation of the sea and looked at the city. It wasn't a very big city, even by the standards of the time, but it was a rich city. A center of trade and commerce from around the Mediterranean, and more than that, it was a place that was used to strange people. Here his outfit and accent went unnoticed. There were merchants and ships from all over the Empire. It gave him a place to blend in, and opportunities for wealth and power were numerous and for the taking.

Kal had studied ancient Greek and Latin in university, so it had not been difficult for him to manage in the beginning. The way he spoke and his accent raised no eyebrows as many in the city were from distant parts of the Empire who used more common languages that were not their mother tongues.

Kal had first been able to make money working as a scribe. He was among a handful of men in the city who could write in both Greek and Latin. This earned him a lot of money very quickly, mostly from wealthy patrons.  After a week, he took his earnings to the city’s market. There he bought and sold goods. He observed what was available, what was in demand, and used that information to arrange several lucrative deals. When he couldn’t buy or sell, he traded. When he couldn’t trade, he simply asked questions. Within two weeks he was the owner of his own warehouse and had a small fortune in silver and gold.

Kal had chosen a man named Marcus to be his partner and see to his business interests. Marcus had worked for many years in the cities treasury. However, Marcus desired something a bit more challenging than making entries in ledgers and was only too pleased to quit his menial job with the city to work for Kal. Kal gave Marcus instructions on how the business was to be modelled and structured, then left the details of running it up to him.

It had worked out very well for both of them. Kal and Marcus were now among the wealthiest men in Massalia.

Kal grinned to himself. One of the richest men in Massalia and no one knew who he was. Only Marcus and a few chosen others were aware of his position in the business. The business was not what interested Kal. He had other things on his mind. The business was simply there to provide him with silver and gold, that was all.

An idea had come to him a month ago. It had fixed itself in his head and he thought his way through it carefully. If he was stuck here in this time, and he had all the wealth he ever needed, why not do something with all that influence and power? Something he could never have done as Crafty Kal Hudson. He would dominate and control the lives of thousands, use them as his playthings.

*

Kal made his way back to the warehouse as the sun climbed to midday. The same old question floated in his mind. How had he gotten here? This question had faded over time, as acceptance of his circumstances set in, but it still lingered, floating back to the surface now and then. Kal knew there would never be an answer, but it seemed less and less important as each day passed.

The warehouse was like several in Massalia, a large brick building with a central arched entrance, which was flanked by four large doors to admit carts and wagons to load and unload goods.  Kal now owned three such warehouses, as well as several small and medium sized houses scattered around the city. The warehouse he approached, was where Marcus had setup his headquarters.

As Kal entered the warehouse, the men loading and unloading carts paid him no mind. None of them knew who he was, but the men weren’t being paid to stop people from getting in. Everyone in the city knew this was where Marcus had his counting room, and there were people coming and going at all times, to conduct commerce. He walked through the large building to the counting room and entered.

“Ah Kal, there you are.” A voice greeted him. The man that had spoken was short, skinny, and had a sharp face with a pointed nose. His eyes were shrewd, and his fingers nimbly moved over the piles of parchment on his desk. His head was shaved and he wore a purple colored robe of a very expensive weave and cut.

Kal sat down opposite him. The little man stood, walked around the desk and poured a goblet of wine from a jug on a sideboard and handed it to him.

“Try this,” the man said in a self-congratulatory tone. “I managed to get my hands on a whole shipment of this. So now it’s ours, not Caesar’s!”

“What are you talking about Marcus?” Kal asked, taking a drink of the wine. He noted that it was a particularly fine vintage.

Marcus shrugged. “It’s quite simple,” he said, trying, yet not succeeding to fain modesty. “A large shipment of wine came into the city this morning. It was going to a wine merchant who sends what he buys from the local vineyards to Rome. Last year he even made a gift of some of the finest casks to Caesar. Caesar apparently enjoyed it so much he wanted to buy all of this year’s vintage, or so the merchant claims. Anyway, some of our watchers saw it come into the city and reported it. The message was rushed to me and I was able to send men to intercept its delivery.”

One of Kal’s eye brows rose at that last.

“Oh, not that way,” Marcus said with a chuckle. “The men paid for it. They did have to pay more than the wine merchant was offering to get the cart drivers to agree. However, in Rome the casks will sell for four or five times what we paid for them.” Marcus’s grin broadened. “I already have an offer from an independent ship captain from Rome. He’s offering double what I paid per cask.”

“So, Caesar doesn’t get his wine until after we get paid.” Kal said, barking a laugh at the joke.

Marcus chuckled again. “I thought you would like that,” he said. “By the way,” Marcus added, “I have the information you wanted.”

Kal took a long drink of wine. Finally, this was what he had been waiting for. “Go on,” he said to Marcus, surpressing his excitement in front of the other man.

“Out of six hundred senators in the city, fifteen hold the real power.” Marcus began in a lecturing sort of tone. “And out of those fifteen, three are pre-eminent. Two of these three meet the criteria you gave me, they are Gaius Flavius and Laelius Hortensius. If we could persuade either one of them to see the situation with the export tax our way… ” he left it hanging.

“Tell me about them,” said Kal, sitting back in his chair.

Kal handed his goblet to Marcus. The other man took the goblet, replenished it with wine, and passed it back to Kal before beginning to speak again.

“Gaius Flavius, from all outward appearances, is a model senator,” Marcus began, and then smiled deviously. His face with its long pointed nose seemed to take on a ferret like countenance. “However,” he continued. “Our information is that the model senator owes a lot of money to several money lenders and some of them are of the unsavory variety. It seems that Flavius enjoys betting on the games and other spectacles. He is also known to spend lavish amounts of money on his own pleasures.”

Kal grinned and took a drink from his goblet. Flavius sounded like a pigeon ready to be plucked, and Kal himself would do the plucking.

“What of Laelius?” he asked.

“Laelius Hortensius is one of our competitors,” said Marcus shrewdly. The little man’s fingers danced across the stacks of parchment on his desk until they came to rest on the sheet he sought. “Hortensius exports goods primarily to Rome,” he continued. “Wine, salt pork, fish, herbs, coral, and cork are his main exports. He also owns several ships. However, in the last month our business has moved into exporting the same goods, and Laelius’s exports have dropped by half.  He also recently married the young, beautiful daughter of Quintus Celsus, who owns an entire fleet of merchant vessels. It is said she has expensive tastes, and is a woman who is any man’s equal when it comes to business.”

Kal sat looking into his goblet for a time after Marcus had finished. He turned the two men over in his mind as he sipped the remainder of his wine. “Approach Flavius first,” he said finally, as he handed the empty goblet back to Marcus with a simple gesture indicating that he did not desire more. “But before you approach him, send someone to pay a visit to the money lenders he owes. Try to buy his debt from them if you can. Buy them out of business if you have to, even the unsavory ones.”

Marcus nodded as he placed the goblet on a silver tray that held the jug of wine. “What of Laelius?” he asked.

“We wait,” said Kal, with a thoughtful gaze at the ceiling.  “From what you tell me, I think Laelius will be the more challenging of the two. I need to study him myself, and learn all I can about him. Flavius is simple, his kind infests all walks of life and they are really quite unremarkable. It’s the ones who can reason that you have to watch out for.”

Kal stood and moved towards the door. “I’m going to get a few hours of sleep,” he said. “I want to have a look at Laelius’ house after nightfall, it seems a good enough place to start. Have Atilius here one hour after dark.”

Marcus nodded, moving back around his desk and retaking his seat.

Kal left the counting room and made his way to the very back of the warehouse. In the back corner was a rickety staircase that led up to a little room which wasn’t more than a closet. This was where Kal slept most nights. He climbed the stairs and entered the little room that had a curtain for a door. Inside, the room contained a crude table, small stool, and a simple pallet for sleeping. A single oil lamp sat on the table unlit, and one shuttered window looked out behind the warehouse into an alley.

Kal didn’t know why he stayed here of all places, a small little dusty room in the back of a warehouse, when he owned several very nice houses. It was something he couldn’t put his finger on. Why was he trying to hide? He had everything he wanted, but he kept to the shadows. Why? Kal put those thoughts out of his mind. What he needed to do was focus.

Kal moved across the small room, lay down on the pallet, and closed his eyes. He was ready now. He had the wealth, and wealth in this or any other time was power. Kal had spent his whole life, before coming here, in the pursuit of money. He was going to seek his entertainment elsewhere now. Money no longer interested him. He would use what he had learned to finance his new ambition. Kal grinned to himself as he lay on his pallet in the dark breathing slowly. He was going to be the puppet master pulling the strings, and all these people would be his puppets. Caesar could rule the Empire, but Kal would control the lives of the people in it for his own amusement. Satisfied that he had started to put his plans in motion, Kal drifted off to sleep.

*

Kal judged it was close to an hour after sunset as he descended the stairs from his room.

A gruff voice called out softly in the darkness, “Kal?”

Kal could just make out the silhouette of a figure standing next to a pile of grain sacks in the dark. “Yes,” he replied just as softly, recognising the voice.

The figure moved towards him then stopped a few paces away. Kal could see him more clearly now. The man wore a dark tunic that hung to his knees. It was belted at the waist with a wide leather belt that held a heavy bladed dagger on either side. The man wore a hooded cloak like Kal, and on his feet he wore sandals, with their lacings crisscrossing up his shins.

“Atilius,” Kal greeted the man.

Atilius made a grunting sound in reply. He was a head shorter than Kal, although his shoulders were just as broad. He had thick legs and large powerful hands. He wore his black silver hair close cropped to his head. His eyes were brown and very alert. He moved quietly through the dark like a silent shade.

Atilius had made his living as an assassin, or professional murderer for hire. From time to time, he also worked as a thief.  His quick hands and sharp eyes were a deadly combination as several had discovered. He was also the only other man besides Marcus who knew who Kal was. 

It had been just over a month ago that Kal and Marcus had formed a sort of guild for beggars, thieves, and murderers. It served primarily as an information gathering organization. Since its founding they had expanded it to include several w****s. Kal’s business now owned two brothels in the city and many of the w****s who worked the streets had been eager to join the guild for the extra money, and the somewhat limited amount of protection that being associated with the guild gave them. Marcus had set up guild outposts all over the city in houses that he had acquired. The guild members would visit one of these houses and pass on information they had overheard or come across in the city. Information that was deemed urgent was sent to Marcus by runner, otherwise a messenger was dispatched once a day from every outpost to deliver the reports. All members of the guild were paid once a week and all were paid the same rate. Their information had proven invaluable. Marcus had been able to double business in the first week alone.

Kal had appointed Atilius and the other murderers and assassins to police the guild, after one of the thieves had tried to sell information to a senator. Both thief and senator had been found in an alley with their throats cut. Dealing with a traitor was one thing but a dead senator caused many to start asking questions.

Marcus had also let it be known that if anyone caught one of his peers selling information outside of the guild, the one who turned him in would receive a reward of as much gold as he could fit in both his hands. This kept everyone looking over everyone else’s shoulder, and there had been no incidents since. A man’s loyalties to causes, religions, or other men might change, but these men’s loyalty to money never would. 

“Marcus told me you wanted to go see Senator Hortensius’ house.” said Atilius, in a gruff voice.

“Yes,” Kal replied. “I am hoping to learn all I can about him.”

Atilius nodded. He was not a man that wasted time talking. He had been in his trade for a long time and understood the value of knowing all you could about your intended victim.

Atilius led Kal out of the warehouse and down the darkened streets of the city. People still moved here and there, gathering in inns, ale houses, and those looking for other entertainments frequented the cities many brothels. They walked down numerous alleys and crossed several streets.

Kal judged they had walked for perhaps twenty minutes when Atilius stopped. Kal not paying a great deal of attention to his companion, walked right into the other man’s back with a grunt.

“This is no time for sleep walking Kal!” Atilius hissed in annoyance. “So why don’t you wake up from your nap, unless you intended to walk up my back.”

“Sorry,” Kal said a bit bashfully. He knew Atilius was right, and made no issue of being scolded for his lack of attention.

Atilius gave Kal a hard look for a brief moment, then let the matter drop. “It’s that one,” he said pointing to a house up the street.

The house was large with a wall running around the yard’s perimeter.

“Let’s go around by the alley and come up on its backside,” Atilius said, pointing towards the alley’s dark entrance.

Not long after they were making their way down the alley behind the house.

“Ah, that’s handy,” Atilius said in a smug voice, pointing to some timbers piled up behind the house across the alley from Laelius’s.  “Some helpful citizen is doing some repairs on his house.”

They took one of the timbers, leaning it up against the back wall of the house. Atilius climbed up then reached down and grasped Kal’s hand in his own. A moment later Kal was up on the roof with him. They could now see over the wall that surrounded Laelius’s house.

The house was made of stone and was two stories high. It also had a large garden and courtyard surrounding it.

“Laelius’s room is in the back of the house on the left,” Atilius said, pointing at the house across the alley. “His wife, Octavia, has her room on the right.”

“Isn’t it a little odd that a newly married man and his wife would have separate rooms?” Kal asked in bafflement.

“Not when you consider that she’s angry with her husband,” Atilius replied as though the answer was obvious.

“What makes you think she’s angry with him?” Kal asked, even more confused.

“Why don’t you stop asking dumb questions and think?” Atilius spat in a disgusted tone. “Octavia is from one of the wealthiest families in Massalia, and was married off to a senator for political reasons. She is used to a lavish lifestyle, but her husband’s business has been declining, ever since you set Marcus loose on the city. How long will she keep her lifestyle if that continues? Not to mention the fact that she is several times smarter than her husband when it comes to business, but he believes women have no place in commerce. I’m sure she finds his attitude most endearing,” he said sardonically.

“Ah, I understand now,” said Kal, fitting that piece of the puzzle into his plans.

“Take my advice Kal,” said Atilius in a serious tone. “If you want your plans to work, you need to open your eyes and learn to understand people. You have a head for business but you are lacking when it comes to reading people.”

They sat in silence for a long time watching the house until the last lights had been extinguished. Kal rolled what Atilius had said around in his mind. He came to the conclusion that the older man was right. He knew Atilius had a knack for sizing someone up with a single glance. Observation and deduction were as much a part of Atilius as any of the great detectives Kal had read stories about. He was going to have to employ those same methods, if he was to succeed in his plans.

An hour or so later, Kal made his way through the warehouse to his room. He had learned much that night. Mainly, he learned that he was ill prepared. He needed to hone his skills before he would be prepared for Laelius. That was where Atilius fit into his plan. Kal needed all the training that the assassin could provide him in those areas.

He climbed the stairs and lay down on his pallet. His eyes were heavy and as he drifted off to sleep he could have sworn he heard a strange humming.

*

Kal’s eyes flew open, he was standing in a strange chamber where four columns formed a tight circle around him. There was a white light coming from above, but he could not see from where. The light fell in a pool around him but did not pass the columns, and as he listened, he heard something moving in the darkness.

“Who’s there?” he asked, looking around quickly, but could see nothing moving beyond the columns.

“Why is he here?” said a strangely familiar voice from the darkness. “You mustn’t bring him here. It is dangerous.”

“What are you saying?” Kal demanded of the voice. “What danger?”

“I must send him back to his own time.” another familiar voice said from behind him.

Kal spun around but saw nothing. The air around him seemed charged. The columns began to vibrate. Suddenly he felt the sensation of needles stabbing into his brain. He screamed in pain.

“He cannot return to his own time! He cannot return!” the first voice exclaimed, now becoming more frantic. “We have to send him back to his world’s past!”

“What’s going on?” Kal shouted. “Who are you? Why am I here?”

Kal felt a sudden jolt, like being struck by lightning. His whole body jerked and contorted.

“Quickly, or he will not survive! Send him back to his worlds past!” the voice shrieked. 

The light and the columns seemed to waver like heat waves on a hot day.

Kal suddenly found himself back on his pallet in the warehouse, gasping for air. Small rays of the morning’s light were coming into his room from the cracks in the shuttered window. His body ached from head to toe. He breathed deeply trying to regain his breath, but his lungs felt as though they were on fire.  All his muscles burned and seemed to be knotted, he couldn’t raise his arms. He felt completely exhausted and drained and his head pounded so hard it felt as though his brain would burst from his skull.  

“Not a dream,” he muttered to himself. “Not a dream!”

Kal collapsed on his pallet and all went dark as unconsciousness overcame him. 

*