A Conversation, 51 BCE

Come in, oh, sir, please come in. You may keep your cloak and your staff with you. What is that staff made from—oak?

Please, take a seat before me. On the chair—the good chair, with the fine wool blanket on it, I had it brought out just for you. My slaves will be bringing us food and wine shortly. You do drink wine, yes? I have not seen any vineyards in your land yet, so I must assume, if I may. Please enjoy, it is fresh from our arbors beside the Via Domitia, the closest Gaul comes to Mother Rome.

What is the name of your people again? The Cantiaci? Did I pronounce that correctly? Ah. Thank you. My apologies if I have not been able to pronounce it very well.

Well, have my guards given you my name as you entered our camp? Oh, they have not? Perhaps you missed it. I am Marcus Quintus Cornelius, for I am the fifth of my name, after my father, and his father, and his father before him. That is how things are done in my country, you see. Our family, and that of our emperor, and our country, they come before all. I am proud to be named for them. Are you proud of your name as well?

You may call me Quintus, my men have done so for many years. It is a pleasure to meet with someone of your stature, face to face, for I have heard marvelous things about your wisdom and power. Is it true that you can talk to the trees and the sky, and the dead themselves, no different then how you are talking to me now? Fascinating.

I also have heard so much about your people. Like us, I heard you have many gods, of war, of cows and horses, and of love. A mark of a civilized people, no doubt. Will you share them with me, when we have had more to drink, and no more need for talk of business? I heard you worship trees, as well as talk to them—why? Well, let us talk of that later, for I have to speak of the trees in my country as well.

Your country is beautiful. The forests are lovely, so filled with green and growth, and it is clear from the hills that your people farm, from their round houses and stones fences, that the land is rich and fertile. Such wealth you have! Oh, what the people from the deserts far to the east would give to have one bit of that earth. At some point, when all this is finished, you must visit those lands. Imagine—the sand of your beaches, stretching from mountain to mountain, with no water. What a departure from your beautiful, green land!

Now, I must say, I am very glad, that unlike others in your station, you speak my tongue. And read it, too! Most of your fellow priests read and speak our language, but never write anything down. A shame. Your language is very lovely, but I have not had the time to learn it just yet. Hopefully, I will. You see, I have just arrived from deep within Gaul, and had a, well, rather unfortunate meeting with many of your fellows at a stout fort within a mountain. A place called Uxelledunom—have you heard of it?

Nasty business, we took no pleasure there in what we did there. Chopping the hands off warriors, especially those brave and strong, is something we would prefer not to do, especially after such a long siege. We did not enjoy crucifying that chieftain—leaving such courage to be hung in the mountains and scavenged by the birds—no pleasure there, not at all. Such valor is to be revered by all, but our emperor will not tolerate such behavior, especially as the rest of their chieftains surrounded their strongholds and swore allegiance to our banner and our sigil. But it needed to be done, you see. We want peace, as do most people who enjoy trade and wealth, and fine wines in the evening, just like you and I right here.

Speaking of which, give me a moment—my rude slave has forgotten to refill your glass. Forgive me. I shall punish him later, but give him no heed—he is of common stock, from the Rhine river or some other far away place, and he is still learning the way of civilized people, such as ourselves.

We do not wish to do that here, you see. Your island is filled with such hearty people—men and women alike—and we do not want to waste them, your land, or anything else, in the same manner.

You know, that is one thing that we, children of Romulus, have done well and continue to do so. If we conquer a place, and should they write better and think better then us, well, then, we’d keep them. Make them use that talent for us. It is how we conquered much of the world, and why no one lives in Carthage anymore. For after we were done…well, there is a reason it is gone. Just as Alesia is gone as well. I do hope that no one you knew was there—a process I would prefer not to repeat.

Now, I spoke of trees earlier, and this is why. Do you know what my favorite thing in my country is? More then a comfortable tent, more then a fine glass of wine. It is fine fruit tree, standing proudly in the courtyard of a citizen. Oh, you should see the pear tree in my villa. It has been there for many years, growing fruit for my father, me, and now my children as I sit here, talking to you. It will continue to grow and give fruit for many years after them as well, I am sure.

Unlike berries, however, it takes many years of toil and work to grow a little seed into a proper sapling, and even more time to make it blossom, and even more time before it begins to give you fruit. It is not easy, growing the food that feeds our people, but it is how we ourselves have grown.

Did you see the pears here in my tent? This golden fruit? They aren’t from my home, but come from a tree just like mine. Slave! Come over here and bring the plate. The golden one, not the wooden one, you Allemani swine. Gods, I should have just left you at the villa to work in the olive press.

Where was I? Oh yes—look at the plate before you, with the fruit on it. Give it a smell—fresh and ready to be eaten. I have saved one for you, a pear, the ripest of the harvest, straight from our orchards across the sea in Gaul. From one of our oldest and loveliest trees. Please take a bite. Careful, it is so ripe, the juice will slide right down your chin.

Pears, they are so very lovely when they are ripe. And I have brought seeds to plant. There will be pear trees here in your land, planted by us. By Rome. Do you not think your people would love this tasty pear?

Imagine the wealth we would bring, by connecting you to the rest of our magnificent empire. Wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t your people like that?

I hope you are enjoying your lovely fruit, my dear guest.

Now…tell us where they are hiding.