handing the jar of cooling oil to Arius, for he had ridden full rate all the distance to the city.

"Thank you," Arius commented humbly, fascinated by the glowing body before him and at the same time frightened to look at it.

"Now you can govern Laodacia as Callius intended," Martius continued, taking some fruit from the table and biting into it.

"No wait," Arius interrupted, "they were right. I have no education but the mountains. We have a fine city here and this could be a place of wealth to rival Rome itself if we could organize our affairs properly. What I am trying to say is that we need a condominium with Rome."

"You mean that you and I would govern together, like one person?" Martius asked. There was a period of silence. Then he answered slowly, not looking up from the marble paving, "No, I am not interested. I am going back to Rome. How strange, Arius thought, that he said "to Rome" and not "home" as he had expected. Arius reached out and grabbed the Roman's wrist. Although the golden skin looked so soft and supple, he could feel the tension beneath it. That strength in that hand could guide the fastest quadriga at the race track, could toss quoits with unerring accuracy, could also write laws and sign decrees. But there was more. He sensed the perfumed oil shimmering on the sun-warmed body, the odor of crushed fruit on his lips, blond curls still damp from the pool. Slowly he eased his own hand inside the tense hand of the boy beside him. "Yes, we would govern as one person," Arius echoed. The tension rose in the two clasped hands and their blood beat as one person. Arius tipped Martius' head with his other hand and saw that not all the sparkle on his cheeks came from the oil. At the same time, Arius was aware of the hot tears streaming down his own cheeks.

Thus began the Forty Golden Years, as Laodacian historians called that glorious period in their city's development from a forest outpost to the metropolis respected throughout the world and a little envied for its splendor and glory. When the co-rulers died during the great epidemic, their bodies were burned in a single pyre and the ashes taken to the top of Mt. Tantellius as they had directed. The art schools and the temples, the gymnasium where they had so often played together and the entire population of the city mourned their death. And where their funeral pyre had been, there appeared a single block of marble-half black onyx and half golden hued-to mark the spot.

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