Marfisa left the nymphaeum under the gaze of my statue. She slipped into the nearby courtyard and then made her way to the reception rooms.  

Taking a deep breath, she threw open the doors and was flooded with sound and light. All eyes turned to her, then ignored her like a minor guest.  

She could not tell if it was because she wore a plain pallium instead of the imperial stole, or... had they mistaken her for one of the palace servants? Or did they have better things to do?  

She felt almost insulted by the lack of attention, but on the other hand, to get rid of that reception, she was tempted to say that Varuclezia was coming unannounced... just to see everyone run away in panic like chickens with their heads cut off.   

Marfisa was as beautiful as ever. Her long golden hair and amethyst eyes were all she needed to enchant those present. There was no need for make-up, jewellery or expensive clothes. In fact, the only reason she was not wearing fancy clothes was that she had never been seriously interested in attending this reception. 

What she was wearing now was a pallium, the usual robe worn by teachers and scholars, though in her case it was made of silk and dyed imperial purple. It was a purple and white woven with a golden thread that carried the phrase: 

Meditandum est quid felicitas, nam si non habemus omnia, si non omnia possidere. 

Around her diaphragm, partially hidden under the lapels of the pallium, was a black sash. It was wrapped in such a way as to keep her ample breasts raised and in full view. Around her waist was a black belt with the inscription: Ratae sententiae, and from which hung no less than forty pearls. 

She was striking in her simplicity, and indeed there was not a guest who did not turn towards her to admire her beauty, but the game was short-lived, and everyone returned to their own conversation. 

Marfisa could not tell if they had better things to do, or if they had simply become accustomed to her eccentricity.  

She continued to feel insulted by this lack of attention. In truth, she was the one who did not want to be there; but the more this lack of attention continued, the more the temptation grew to say that the green-haired witch was coming.  

She took a few steps forward between the tables. They were decorated with the finest silver trays and stained-glass bottles, while the light from the candles reflected in the glass of the chandelier. 

Marfisa took a glass of wine and looked around cautiously. "So... if I were a snake in the shape of a woman, where would I hide?" Marfisa said to herself, sweeping her eyes left and right, if not up and down, as if it made sense. After all, there was no danger at all... or at least no danger with green hair.   

"Oh, Marfisa!" said a voice to her right in not quite stunted Latin, but with a strong foreign accent, "we wondered if you had come. Come here, we have good Falernum wine, accompanied by excellent delicacies." 

Turning, she immediately recognised the pair of kings who had retreated to a secluded corner. They looked very similar in build and features, although they were of two different species: the one on the right, very short if he had been human, was Auridans King of Kusana. He had a red, black and white fur, dark eyes, while the long, monkey-like tail typical of cercopes extended from the lower part of his back.   

The one on the left, however, was Oliverius, King of Sarmatia, and he belonged to the siren species. He had the same features as a cercopes, although he was as tall as a normal human, but much of the hair that covered his body was replaced by feathers: long brown feathers made up his hair, long feathers made up the tip of his tail, and long feathers covered his forearms.  

His little finger was disproportionately long, giving him an extraordinary wingspan, although he now kept it folded down his arm to avoid bumping into people. A poor observer would have thought he only had four fingers.   

Obviously he could not fly, but those wings would give him a good push up or forward if he took off.  

Marfisa had seen some of them as a child, during her father's visit to the Misenum fleet. When they flapped their arms, they were fast enough to run on the surface of the water. Which explained why they had been used in the Roman fleet since the time of the First Punic War, and why their oldest communities were where the Roman fleets had been for at least a generation. 

If her memory serves her correctly, some ancient Egyptian texts say that the Sirens came from the Libyan desert at a time when it was still teeming with flora and fauna.  

The advancing desert had driven them to migrate far and wide, inhabiting lands from Spain to India, only for fate to turn against them. They were almost wiped out, except for a small community in the Tyrrhenian Sea and, reportedly, a kingdom in the mountains of India. At least until the First Punic War, when the legend became history.  

Now they had begun to spread along the rivers of Sarmatia from the time of... Hadrian's reign? She didn't mean any nonsense, but Oliverius was very sensitive about the antiquity of his people in Sarmatia, and Marfisa didn't want to offend by omitting such details. 

Auridans was the opposite: if there was one person who didn't care about the antiquity of his dynasty, it was him. As the first of his dynasty, he had no interest in concepts such as antiquity, nor did he care how long it lasted. 

Since cercopes cannot reproduce with humans, the kingdom would be inherited by a member of the previous dynasty. Given Auridans' liberal and conciliatory attitude, they did not seem to be in too much of a hurry to get rid of him. In fact, Marfisa was not even sure that Auridans was a king in all but name. 

"I see you are rather pensive..." said Auridans in a different accent from Oliverius, "...are you perhaps thinking about that barbarian Pandracon?" 

At this question Marfisa could not help but close her eyes and laugh deeply, then she said, "Maybe he was my problem, you see, just now I saw Varuclezia coming this way and since her presence was not expected..." 

Marfisa opened her eyes again to see the two kings gone. 

"Damn cowards!" said Marfisa before taking a long sip of wine. "Go trust your friends!"  

She vehemently set the goblet down on the table and looked around for an escape route. If two kings had the right to walk away from that reception, then who was she to do otherwise. Unfortunately, her decision was made too late. 

They were all cheerful, intent on pleasant conversation and joyful laughter; but the novelty that appeared made them all jump and tremble, as did Marfisa, for the front doors swung open and revealed to all a familiar figure.  

At the head of the hall stood a beautiful and proud maiden. Her long hair was green, and in the centre of her face shone two eyes the colour of gold. She looked like an azalea of the field, a lily of the forest, and a rose of the garden: in short, to tell the truth about her, no one had ever seen such beauty.  
But in the hall, there was Aesara from Libya, and the beautiful Meridiana from Spain, and there was also Medulfa and Ermellina, and others that could be mentioned. Not even Marfisa seemed to matter.  

They were all beautiful, they all seemed so, but now that this beautiful flower had come into the hall, all other beauty seemed to fade away.  

No less beautiful was the young man she was with. He was handsome, graceful and feline in motive and appearance. Tall and lanky, he was dressed in a red tunic embroidered with gold, his shoulders covered by an amaranth cloak and his legs by long brown trousers. His feline eyes were accompanied by elegant pince-nez glasses. On his head he wore a black Pannonian cap, recognisable by its classic cylindrical shape and decorated with a horizontal golden stripe.   

He had auburn hair, gathered in a short tail at the back of his neck. Brown eyes, full of life and kindness, were accompanied by a warm smile. He looked around the room for a moment and his eyes met Marfisa's. Not unlike any other man, he found her no less beautiful than a nymph, though his gaze seemed to fall more on the strange choice of her dress. 

The room was almost silent. Here and there could be heard the footsteps of those trying to escape, hidden by taller people. Elsewhere, a murmur of prayer could be heard between those who wished to be elsewhere and those who hoped not to fall victim to the green-haired witch. 

I stepped forward and spoke these words: "Emperor Volusius, your virtues and the prowess of your gladiators, which are as well-known on earth as the sea stretches its boundaries, give me hope that the great labours of two travellers who have come from the borders of the Empire to honour your reign will not be lost. 

And that I may make clear to you, in a brief discourse, the reason which has brought us to your royal feast, I say that this is Madalgarius of Aspromonte, of gentle birth and high deeds, who has left his country for a good reason. 

A few days' journey from here, where the forest of Hercynian lies, news was brought to him of you, of the gladiatorial games, and of the great consistory of these noble people assembled here; and how neither city, nor jewels, nor treasure are prizes of virtue, but a laurel crown is given to the victor. 

Wherefore this young man, in order to prove his virtue here, where the flower of senators is gathered, has resolved to challenge to a duel one by one, whether patrician or plebeian, whoever comes to meet him outside the palace in the garden of Maecenas, where his famous tower stands." 

There was a sigh of relief from the old men, the bureaucrats and the ambassadors, but a hint of nervousness from the young men and the gladiators. And the more I spoke, the more they trembled. I left no clue, but they understood that I was meditating on something great. 

The fact that they could see a sack of something heavy dangling from my body as I flailed about in a poetic vein still worried them. It was a near miss that no one listened to me and wondered what I was carrying that was so mysterious. 

"But this shall be done on this condition (let him who is willing to be put to the test hear it): anyone who is thrown to the ground, surrenders, or loses first blood, may not fight again in any other form, and shall be a prisoner without further contention; but he who could defeat Madalgarius, he shall win my person: then he shall go without contention." 

At the end of these words, with a slight bow to Volusius, I waited for the answer. And do not think that I did not tremble. From the smile on his face, the emperor seemed to want to accept the duel personally and spoil my plans, as I had seen him do too often. This time he indulged me and let those present decide whether to accept my proposal. 

Every man looked at me in awe of my beauty, but stayed away because the game, however valuable, was not worth the candle. 

To my surprise, however, one accepted: perhaps the most unlikely of all. Now, dear readers, I can't tell you whether he accepted because he couldn't say no to a beautiful nymph like me, or because deep down he didn't know me. What is certain is that Astulfus raised his hand and walked out of the crowd, pawing here and there as if his feet were on hot coals. He pawed like a finch and found no rest until his challenge was accepted. 

Many breathed a sigh of relief. Others put their palms to their faces, knowing how it would end (but why am I telling you? You know how Astulfus is. You are already closing your eyes in embarrassment). Others rejoiced: what better way to mature than to fall from a pear tree? Astulfus would have learnt the hard way that it is better to stay away from me. 

But let us not dwell on these details and concentrate on Marfisa, who showed neither relief nor embarrassment nor joy. 

She was standing there in the background, looking at me with the same trust one has for a snake hiding in the grass, waiting for its prey. What was in my mind? What was I thinking? 

"Damn it, why are you here?" said Marfisa as if she knew the answer. "Please don't do anything I might regret. The misfortune of having Astulfus as a companion in battle is a thousand times better than the honour of your presence here at my side." 

She said this, but no one could hear her. Between those who admired speaking and those who speaking admired me, nothing could be denied this beautiful green-haired nymph. I asked, and every consul and senator replied, promising this and that, without the slightest protest from the crowd.   

Whispering or shouting made little difference. In this situation, not even the finest ear would have heard their cries of protest. There were final farewells and both Madalgarius and I left the celebration.  

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, may the gods spare me," said Marfisa, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips. "I swear by every god. Before the sun rises tomorrow, I will have fallen into one of her traps."  

Marfisa snorted. I had not yet left the palace when Marfisa began to follow me. First by stealth, then by taking the bull by the horns.  

"Well? What are we playing at?" said Marfisa, pushing me against the wall and threatening me with her face a centimetre from mine. 

"Me? I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about," I said, looking away in a way that would have fooled no one. A child caught with his hands in the cookie jar would have done better. Deception, falsehood and no small amount of mischief all screamed from the way I moved my voice and body.  

"You know, you know. And you know I know you know," said Marfisa. 

"Is that a new tongue twister?" replied I with a smile. 

Marfisa sighed and rubbed her eyes with her fingertips.  

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, please don't make me regret this." 

"Oh, come on," I said in reply. "Have I ever done anything that anyone had to regret?" 

"...!" 

"Your father's little misadventure, it seems to me, had a happy ending." 

"...!!" 

With these words I left and Marfisa did not stop me. She had good reason to let me go, because Marfisa knew that there was no way to win me with words. With words I would turn people around like people turn their socks around. 

But most of all, if I wanted to manipulate consuls, dukes and company, something big was boiling in the pot. And despite the words she had used as seasoning, Marfisa loved this green-haired nymph who was now whistling away. 

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!" snorted Marfisa for the third time. "Mala tempora currunt sed peiora parantur, bad times are running, but worse times are coming..." said Marfisa resignedly at last, "...in melioribus speramus, let's hope for better times." 

So Marfisa and I parted ways, and let it be. Back to Madalgarius, who in the meantime had set off to explore the imperial palaces (as far as he was allowed to go) and had unwittingly come to the circular nymphaeum where my statue stood, illuminated by the moonbeams. 

Kneeling before it, he said: "deh! Varuclezia was right. There is indeed a statue of her of incredible realism. Are you sure you are not going to bite me? Because if what they say about you is true, you are more dangerous than those marble snakes you are wrapped in. 

The statue didn't answer, of course, but I, coming up behind him, did and said: "Oh, come on. I'm not that dangerous, but while we're here..." I took off my shoes and, after a run and a joyful leap, I threw myself into the nymphaeum with a splash of water from which no one was safe. Then I lay down, imitating the same pose as my statue. With my wet robes wrapped around my body, I said: "Well? Are we indistinguishable or not?" 

"If it were not for the colour, it would be impossible to tell which of you is the copy and which is the original," replied Madalgarius. 

You can imagine my delight when I said: "In your face, Cygnus of Cyzicus! You cursed poetaster! You who said that in my works I invent my own shapes and my own beauty! Take this: I have another witness!" 

"Is this normal? Because I am beginning to worry about you," said Madalgarius. 

At these words I laughed and stood up again and said: "Don't worry, with me the word normal may not exist." 

I stood up again and Madalgarius politely looked away and handed me his cloak.  

I took the cloak and said: "A true Roman citizen." 

"What can I say, it's quite chilly tonight and you're not wearing much under that transparent robe," said Madalgarius. 

I sat down on the edge of the nymphaeum, but there was no way I could tie my shoes without taking off the cloak. Madalgarius graciously got down on his knees and tied them for me. 

"Speaking of beautiful things as a nymph, I thought I saw that Marfisa caught your attention," said I. 

Madalgarius made no reply, other than a slight blush to his cheeks. I got up and, noticing how carefully my shoes had been laced. I picked up the bag I had left by the wall and handed it to him, saying: "Take it with you. It might come in handy if you ever need to run." 

"...?" 

I said nothing more, leaving him with more questions than answers. 

Madalgarius left the palaces and went to the Gardens of Maecenas. 

Once owned by Maecenas, the famous advisor to the emperor Augustus, these gardens were a place of pleasure. Almost a small palace, it offered visitors the chance to isolate themselves, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, but still close to it. The vegetation was luxuriant and filled with numerous fountains and nymphaea. The gardens' blend of art, nature and water allowed the mind to be distracted by the sound of rippling water and rustling foliage.   

The complex also included libraries, pavilions, baths and a huge aviary. Each part of the gardens was visually and physically accessible from the terraces and verandas that surrounded it. There was also a tower, the Tower of Maecenas: an imposing mass reaching into the clouds, from which part of the city could be seen.  

Madalgarius spread out a finely woven blanket on the lawn and leaned his weapon against the wall of the famous tower that adorned the garden, sleeping in its shadow cast by the moon.  

Marfisa, not far from him, watched as he laid his red hair on the grass and stood hidden in the bushes. There was no one to watch over him.  

Sleeping, he did not seem human. Peaceful and quiet as he was in his sleep, he resembled a fey creature from Hercynia.   

Slowly Marfisa approached. Step by step, on tiptoe, the maiden approached the incriminated one, who lay sprawled on the grass a few meters from her feet.  

And as she looked at him, she said: "He doesn't look strong, but he's cute this close."  

"So... what is the green-haired witch up to?" whispered Marfisa before approaching on tiptoe, "I swear I will expose her plan, whatever it is". 

And so Marfisa continued until she was close enough to him to sit down on the grass and try to figure out what I was up to. 

Some people can see traps where there aren't any. I really don't know what I've done to make her so suspicious of me. 

Meanwhile, Madalgarius lay sprawled on the grass, while Marfisa continued to stare at him, not understanding what part he played in my plan. Then her gaze shifted to the sword. 

It was a romphaia, a sword of Dacian origin, now only used in duels and gladiatorial games. Two metres long, a fifth of it was the hilt, while the blade curved forward towards the tip like a scythe. In a sense, given its length, it could be called a spear rather than a sword.   

Had it just been a sword, Marfisa would have ignored it, but perhaps because her father had one, she decided to take a closer look. 

There was something strange about the blade. It was made of the highest quality steel and gave off a strange red glow in the moonlight. The wood and leather that made up the hilt were also of an unfamiliar material, although to be honest Marfisa could not boast of being an expert on the subject.  

It could have been the famous Noricum steel, but she could not explain what alchemy could give the metal that red glow, or even just that shiny patina that made the blade look as if it had just come from the forge. 

Marfisa stretched out her hand as if to touch the blade, but she felt repelled: pushed aside by a mysterious force. She felt as if her skin could be cut by the mere touch of the blade. 

Only once had she seen such metal and felt such sensations: his father's romphaia. He had taken it from an undead he had faced. He could not tell her the origin of the weapon, only that it came from Dacia, but he knew it was... fey.   

Marfisa turned sharply to Madalgarius, who was still asleep. Could it be a satyr from the forest of Hercynia? Marfisa thought suddenly, no, he doesn't look like a satyr at all. But this sword...   

She went back to look at the weapon, then back at Madalgarius. It was then that she noticed something shining around his finger.   

At first, he thought it was just a figment of his imagination. A strange glow that seemed to be caused by nothing. But when she looked closer, and the moon gave her lighter, she saw something. The moon's rays refracted off a ring on Madalgarius's finger, like polished gold coated with coppery light. A red stone glittered, and it seemed as if the fiery Star of Mars rested on his finger.  

Marfisa stared at the ring in amazement. It was a ring so finely crafted that it was unique: very detailed, it looked as if it had been made by tearing a branch from a tree of pure gold and twisting it so that it would wrap around a finger.  

It was so lifelike that you could see the knots and veins of wood, protuberances that resembled small shoots or leaves, and tiny rubies that appeared like drops of resin. Nor did the metal appear to be of lesser quality than the shape, for it shone brightly in the darkness, as if fresh from a craftsman's workshop. 

Who is this man? Where did he get such a ring? These and other thoughts crowded Marfisa's mind as she noticed Madalgarius looking at her.   

"..." (Madalgarius). 

"...!" (Marfisa). 

"So... are you going to stare at me much longer?" said Madalgarius, intrigued by the maiden's presence, to which Marfisa replied by straddling him and saying, "Well, that depends on you and what you're going to tell me, since I know nothing about you." 

Madalgarius stared into Marfisa's eyes and said: "Amethyst eyes, golden hair, generous breasts... I must assume you are the Marfisa Ulpia Vopisca everyone is talking about. 

You like to walk around with a book in your hand and wear the pallium, which is usually worn by teachers and scientists. It suits you very well and says a lot about your personality. So yes, I would say I know a lot more about you than you do about me. You have the right to ask me some questions. What would you like to know?"  

Marfisa looked at him a little hesitantly and then said: "So. What is Varuclezia meditating about?" 

"Ah! The green-haired witch, you mean?" said Madalgarius. 

"Ah! So, you know who and what she is..." replied Marfisa, "...anyway, yes, I do mean her. So... what is this witch planning to do to me? What is she planning to my detriment?" 

"Ah! I can't tell you what she's plotting. To tell you the truth, I thought I would be the victim of whatever she has in mind. Right now, I'm just enjoying the chance to take part in the gladiatorial games, but back to us..." said Madalgarius, looking at Marfisa straddling him, "...is this a local custom? A way of greeting? Because if it is, then I should come to Rome more often. By the way, do you have a boyfriend?" 

"..." 

"What?" 

Marfisa put her hands on his chest and said, just to tease him: "Not in this garden, not in this town, not on this continent." 

"Then I'll have to change continents."  

"..." 

"Speaking of that pallium, do you only wear it at parties, or do you also teach?" asked Madalgarius with sincere curiosity. 

"Sometimes, more when I was young and practising with my rhetoric teacher. I gave a few lectures here and there: usually at the palace, at the College of the Salii. Once at the Temple of Livia, where the College of Poets is, and then... back to us. 

Where did the ring you wear come from? I have only seen a ring of this quality in one other place: my father's ring, a treasure from the Hercynian Forest. Where did you get it? And what is its connection between you and the nymphs?" 

At this point, even Madalgarius began to be amused by the situation and decided to join the game, saying: "So many questions and how curious you are. Just for noticing that this ring comes from the Hercynian Forest, you deserve a reward, but what reward do I deserve for being so polite and kind?" 

Marfisa looked at him amusedly, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes and snort, and immediately a nice plot came to her mind. The old proverbs say that there is no cunning like a woman's. Now, Marfisa couldn't say how true that was, but why not have fun trying? 

Madalgarius looked a little too much like a little fox in need of a downsizing, especially since Marfisa didn't like the way he wagged his tail, happy to have her astride him. 

She would teach him the same lesson she gave to many of her suitors. Little did Marfisa know, however, that relying on her cunning would lead her into a situation she did not expect. But why spoil the surprise for my readers? Let Marfisa prepare her plans, mine are already in place, and if you want to know what she and I have in mind, I hope you will follow me into the next chapter, for my pen is quivering.