He had heard the stories from the eastern settlements. Villas burned. Temples desecrated. Roman families slaughtered or driven into the countryside like beggars.
He would not allow generations of wealth to fall into barbarian hands.
“Bring the chests,” he ordered quietly.
Gaius froze. “All of them?”
“All.”
The steward stared at him in alarm. “My lord, there are too many. We cannot possibly transport such weight safely to the coast.”
“We are not taking them.”
Understanding dawned slowly across the older man’s face.
“You mean to bury them.”
Lucius said nothing.
Rainwater dripped steadily from the edge of the roof as the two men stood in silence.
Finally, Gaius bowed his head. “Very well.”
The work began after nightfall.
Servants dismissed weeks earlier could not be trusted, and so only Lucius and Gaius labored in the flickering light of oil lamps. Beneath the rear chamber of the townhouse—a room overlooking the road that led eastward from the bridge across the Tamesis—they pried loose the mosaic floor one piece at a time.
The earth beneath was damp and cold.
Into the pit went the first chest.
Gold solidi stamped with the faces of emperors long dead gleamed in the lamplight. Garnets from the east. Emeralds from Egypt. Silver plate engraved with hunting scenes. Ivory carvings. Necklaces that had adorned Roman noblewomen before Constantine himself had ruled.
The accumulated wealth of generations disappeared slowly into the darkness below the floor.
Lucius descended into the pit one final time and knelt beside the treasure.
For a long moment, he simply rested his hand atop one of the chests.
This was madness.
If he never returned, all of it would vanish into the earth forever.
Yet what choice remained?
Outside, the storm winds moaned through the dying city.
At last, Lucius lifted his eyes toward the ceiling above him.
“Mercurius,” he whispered hoarsely, invoking the guardian of merchants and prosperity, “keeper of fortune and protector of travelers... preserve what is mine until I return.”
His voice faltered.
“And if I do not return... let civilized hands one day uncover it again. Let Rome not vanish utterly from this place.”
The lamp flame trembled.
Somewhere in the distance, beyond the walls of Londinium, a horn sounded through the rain, signaling another group’s departure.
