The sound of approaching drums in the distance.
Thunder. On a clear day.
The farmer paused from his work, wiping the sweat from his brow. Only now that he had put down his rake could he clearly hear the rumbling of thunder in the distance. Faintly. Though it was nearing. Such a clear day, with a nice cool breeze, not much humidity. There was nothing in the air to make the farmer expect a thunder storm or even a rain shower. But his ears were telling him there was thunder somewhere off...
"Durius! Go to Avos, now! Tell him to bring in the goats straight away!"
"Yes, papa!" the boy cried as he ran towards the meadow. He noted a sense of urgency in his father's voice he had not heard before.
"And fetch the Falcata!"
Down the hill he ran, towards the river where his brother was tending to the goats.
The Falcata.
He cant remember the last time he had seen his dad's sword. A couple of years, perhaps. Him and his brother used to love watching their father sharpen the blade, begging him to let them wield it. Never.
In fact, this would be the first time he would ever handle it. Wow.
He stumbled on a half-earthed stone as he careened down the slope. Up he popped and continued his dash towards Avos. Again he stumbled. Again on a stone. He was usually sure footed, these slopes were as familiar to him as his father's voice, resonating in his head. "Go to Avos, NOW! NOW!"
"Avos!" he yelled as he neared him. "Avos! Papa said to bring in the goats right away!" He could see his brother standing there watching over the bleating goats. He clearly had not heard him as he still had his back to him.
"Avos! AVOS!"
"Durius, my little helper. You've come to spell me off have you?" said the teenage boy. Long jet black hair, wind blown, partially covering his green eyes and freckled face. He had an olive complexion. Not quite as dark as his father's, but certainly not as light as his mother and little brother.
"Avos! Papa said to bring the goats in. Right now!"
"Oh, did he? Why, what's going on?"
"I don't know. He just said to get you. And the goats. Straight away! He sounded....scared."
"Well then, I suppose we should go. Help me round them up will you?"
"Sure. Let's hurry" said the fair skinned, hazel-eyed boy. He was 10 years old. Five years younger than his brother, but in his eyes, he was his peer. Just as brave, just as mature. Just as...Avos.
They rounded up the goats. Avos, made some clicking sounds with his tongue as he made a motion with his staff that the goats instinctively understood. They followed him and his brother up the slope towards the house and their awaiting pen.
They could now see their father in the distance. He was frantically gathering his pack and saddling his horse. Where was he going?
"Papa." Avos queried, "Where are you off to? What's happening?"
"Get the goats in. Protect your mother. I must ride to The Circle at once"
"The Circle?" the boys said almost at the same time.
"Tell me what's going on!" said Avos.
"Romans."
"Durius! Go to Avos, now! Tell him to bring in the goats straight away!"
"Yes, papa!" the boy cried as he ran towards the meadow. He noted a sense of urgency in his father's voice he had not heard before.
"And fetch the Falcata!"
Down the hill he ran, towards the river where his brother was tending to the goats.
The Falcata.
He cant remember the last time he had seen his dad's sword. A couple of years, perhaps. Him and his brother used to love watching their father sharpen the blade, begging him to let them wield it. Never.
In fact, this would be the first time he would ever handle it. Wow.
He stumbled on a half-earthed stone as he careened down the slope. Up he popped and continued his dash towards Avos. Again he stumbled. Again on a stone. He was usually sure footed, these slopes were as familiar to him as his father's voice, resonating in his head. "Go to Avos, NOW! NOW!"
"Avos!" he yelled as he neared him. "Avos! Papa said to bring in the goats right away!" He could see his brother standing there watching over the bleating goats. He clearly had not heard him as he still had his back to him.
"Avos! AVOS!"
"Durius, my little helper. You've come to spell me off have you?" said the teenage boy. Long jet black hair, wind blown, partially covering his green eyes and freckled face. He had an olive complexion. Not quite as dark as his father's, but certainly not as light as his mother and little brother.
"Avos! Papa said to bring the goats in. Right now!"
"Oh, did he? Why, what's going on?"
"I don't know. He just said to get you. And the goats. Straight away! He sounded....scared."
"Well then, I suppose we should go. Help me round them up will you?"
"Sure. Let's hurry" said the fair skinned, hazel-eyed boy. He was 10 years old. Five years younger than his brother, but in his eyes, he was his peer. Just as brave, just as mature. Just as...Avos.
They rounded up the goats. Avos, made some clicking sounds with his tongue as he made a motion with his staff that the goats instinctively understood. They followed him and his brother up the slope towards the house and their awaiting pen.
They could now see their father in the distance. He was frantically gathering his pack and saddling his horse. Where was he going?
"Papa." Avos queried, "Where are you off to? What's happening?"
"Get the goats in. Protect your mother. I must ride to The Circle at once"
"The Circle?" the boys said almost at the same time.
"Tell me what's going on!" said Avos.
"Romans."
