The First Book of the Pure by Don Dewey

precious metals. Long he walked, seeking a
town, until he spotted one far ahead. “ How long has it
been?” And he started the last leg of his journey to find
out.
    He approached the town with caution,
uncertain what reception a former Roman warrior would receive from
these people. Perhaps Rome was still the greatest force in the
world, and perhaps Rome was gone. He had to know. When he came to a
sturdy house of sawn wood there was a line outside with clothing on
it, no doubt to dry after being washed, or perhaps just to air out.
He took what he needed, put it on, and crept back to the dirt road,
turning again toward the town, brown robe tight over his stocky
frame. His weapons were wrapped in more clothing, tied to his back.
He hoped it would pass for a normal burden.
    He went to the older men at the gate of the
large town and asked if there was a teacher he could learn from
nearby. “Which teacher?” one man asked somewhat acerbically.
    “I don’t know any, sir, but I desire to
learn. I’m new to these parts, and there is much I don’t know
about. Any good teacher will do.”
    Another man was less sarcastic than the
first. “Well, there aren’t many teachers in our area, but you may
want to speak with Mu’dar. He’s a good man, though perhaps not as
keen a mind as some other teachers. He’s older, and I don’t think
he has a student now. Most won’t take on an unknown student like
you, nor one your age. You look what, twenty five?”
    “Less, but I do look that age. Where may I
meet him, kind sir?” Maximus seemed to be very subservient in his
manner.
    The man pointed down the narrow street,
building pushing in on either side. “He’s next to the stables just
there, ten or twelve buildings down.”
    A third man laughed outright. “Can you count
to ten or twelve?” The others joined his laughter.
    Maximus wasn’t a patient man when it came to
such things, and had long been a soldier with well honed battle
reflexes. Their laughter, and the remarks, were really annoying to
him after having just weathered what should have been his death.
With a speed none of them could follow, even had they been
expecting it, he grasped the man who started the laughter by his
robe front, hoisted him and his enormous belly a foot off the
ground, and said to him quietly, “Am I a man to be laughed at, sir?
Or should I show you what my last job was?” The man turned white,
and with some attempt at saving face, demanded in a quivering voice
to be put down. Almost in a whisper, heard only by the man he held,
Max said, “Give me grief and I’ll slice your gut open. Understood?”
A second man stepped up and gripped his arm, but Maximus kicked him
away with one foot, while balancing on his other foot and still
keeping his heavy victim in the air.
    The man nodded, not trusting himself to
speak. No one else moved, so Max lowered the man heavily enough
that he almost fell in front of his friends. With a wave of his
hand Max called out a jovial thanks to them, and walked on toward
whatever his destiny in this place might be.
    When he’d gone far enough, he asked for the
teacher they had described, Mu’dar, who in turn asked his
business.
    Max was as straightforward as usual. “You’ve
been recommended as a teacher, and there is much I would
learn.”
    With a gentle smile, the tall, thin Mu’dar
rubbed a hand over his shaved pate as he thought. “Do you ask to be
my student? It’s most unusual, for a teacher normally chooses his
own students from those who come to hear him in his public
teaching.” He pulled his robes more closely around him as he
awaited an answer.
    “I don’t know your ways here, sir,” Max
replied in his archaic Italian. “But, yes, I am asking.”
    Mu’dar lifted one hand to indicate he would
now speak as an authority, as a teacher. “I will make some
observations. You must also learn to always make observations about
anything and everything, if you would study with me. I’m an old
man, and