Agrippa adjusted his armor and ran his hand over his shaven head, smoothing nonexistent hairs. The horses crept onward up the hillside path, and the warriors of Rome sat tall in their saddles, the shine of their armor covered by dark cloaks. This was by no means the worst thing they had done in service to their leader.

Agrippa signaled, and his men dismounted to approach the gate. They ran their fingers across the stone wall, feeling for cracks in the mortar. One legionary began to climb, fitting his fingers into the stone.

A hoof slipped on a rock, and a ringing note sounded in the silence. Agrippa froze, directing his men to draw their blades.

After a few moments, a man opened the door slowly. This priest was not a problem, a crippled ancient with clouded blue eyes, but he was flanked by a younger companion, a dark-skinned man with a piercing gaze.

“I am Marcus Agrippa, and these are my men,” Agrippa announced. “We travel on behalf of the emperor.” They did not, of course. The emperor was in no condition to know anything about this journey.

“Greetings,” the younger priest said. “We’ve been watching you come up the hill since sunset. You do not travel as discreetly as you imagine.”

Agrippa straightened his shoulders. He was not as skilled as he had once been, or these priests were privileged with unearthly information.

“Your emperor calls on you,” Agrippa informed him. “He asks that you provide him a service.”

“We are simple men,” the priest replied. “We can set you a table with what little food and drink we possess. You are welcome to bed here.”

“It is not food and drink we require,” Agrippa said. “It is not sleep.”

The man looked steadily at him, a half smile on his face.

Agrippa began to wonder if he would need to kill him before entering the temple. He had no way of knowing how many were behind the walls, however. Such a killing might be less than advisable. He also had no idea of the whereabouts of the item he sought. It would be an unfortunate errand should all the priests become indisposed, leaving their treasure still hidden.

“No,” the man said at last. “Warriors of Rome, I see that you call for more than a meal. I see that you call for the impossible. Is that not what your emperor does? He plays with fire, does he not?” The expression on the priest’s face was unreadable. Was he mocking the empire?

Agrippa was uncertain, but at last the priest opened the gate of the temple and beckoned them in.

“Welcome to our fire, then, meager though it be. Sheathe your swords. This is a sacred place, and there is no use for them here.”

Agrippa glanced up reflexively as he passed through the gates, and saw the arrows nudging out of windows and cracks in the rock. Bows aimed at him and his men. It was good that he hadn’t acted in haste. They guarded their treasure. Agrippa felt oddly cheered.