Eighteen Years Following the End of the Third Servile War:

Crassus felt the bile rising from his gut to his throat as he faced the Parthian envoy sent to demand a parlay.  In his younger days, he would never have considered such a demand, but those glorious days were long gone.  As quickly as his anger rose, it fell into despondency.  What choice did he have, he thought to himself.  He had already lost the one thing that meant the most to him... his only remaining son, Publius, to this wretched war that he had wanted so badly such a short time ago.  Now his lineage would die with him if he had no other son.  All his wealth and power, that he had sacrificed so much for over the years, would be given to members of his 'gens', the Licinii Crassi family.  He had no love for the vast majority of them, and it galled him to think they would have what was his.  He knew he must do whatever it took to survive in order to have a chance at returning to Rome and finding a young wife to provide him a new heir.  He had felt no desire to replace his first wife when she died, but now it was imperative that he live to do so. 

The war against Parthia had gone badly from the very beginning.  Over the years since defeating Spartacus, Crassus had joined forces, although reluctantly for the most part, with Pompey and Caesar to form the first Triumvirate to rule Rome with an iron fist.  There was a constant struggle between the three men to be in control of the majority of political maneuvers.  Eventually, after years of amassing an ever-growing fortune and doing his best to be the man behind the power by supporting Caesar in his desires to oust Pompey, but only in secret, Crassus was given control of Syria, a Roman province offering an even larger fortune for the wealthy Consul.  But more wealth was not the reason Crassus wanted Syria, rather than Hispania, which went to Pompey.  Even though it had been more than a decade and a half since the war with Spartacus, Crassus still felt the sting caused by not receiving the glory for the rebel's defeat, which went to Pompey instead.  He longed for military glory more than anything else in his life.  Parthia, just on the other side of the Euphrates River, was another source of great wealth, but more importantly the Parthians were attempting to expand into Armenia, which the Romans wished to attain for themselves.  Crassus knew that defeating the Parthians would gain military fame equal to that already earned by Caesar and Pompey.  Unfortunately, the normally clever strategist had chosen to take the most direct route to reach Parthia by crossing the river, rather than accepting the help the King of Armenia offered if he would take a longer route through his kingdom, a move calculated to protect his people. 

Now, after nearly two years of planning, arranging, and making moves against the Parthians, all he had to show for it was the death of his only remaining son and the obvious defeat of his troops.  He had not admitted to surrender as of yet, but he knew it was inevitable... as much so as he was certain Spartacus had known his fate and that of his rebels all those years ago.  As he pondered his decision, it was made even harder because his soldiers had turned on him and demanded he parlay with the Parthians or face a mutiny of his own men.  The fear he had once engendered in his troops, through the practice of decimation during the war with Spartacus, was no longer an issue.  With a heavy heart, Crassus finally made his decision.  He would accept a truce with the Parthian King Orodes II and pray the gods spared his life.  He convinced himself that his great wealth would make him a better object for ransom than as a dead General.  Word spread quickly throughout his encampment that the war would soon be over, as the messenger rode off to deliver Crassus's answer. 

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Agron checked to see if Nasir was asleep before rising from their sleeping mat.  He quietly pulled the tent flap aside and stepped out into the moonless night.  He stared up into the blackened sky at the few stars that managed to shine through the gathering clouds that threatened rain.  His mind wandered back to another evening... when dark clouds gathered and rain fell on the earth like tears shed by the gods.  The drops had fallen softly on the battered and bloody face of 'The Bringer of Rain'... Agron's hero, Spartacus... as he drew his last breath on the mountain path.  Agron's tears mingled with the raindrops that day, so long ago.  And yet, sometimes it seemed only a short time since Agron had stood beside Spartacus as they fought for their right to be free men, along with all the others who yearned for freedom too.  For years after burying Spartacus on that mountain, so that Crassus would never have his body to display in triumph, Agron had felt a burning hatred for the man.  He had vowed to end Crassus's life someday, but Nasir's cooler head always prevailed.  Actually it was the combined efforts of Nasir, Brion, and Justinus that finally convinced Agron to give up the idea of risking his life by returning to Roman territories to seek out Crassus.

Agron thought back on those early years after escaping over the mountain.  Once the survivors of the rebellion had all crossed the Alps, they began splitting up.  The majority of those who had fallen into the hands of the Romans during adulthood or late childhood, began the trek back to their homelands in hopes of finding some remnant of their past there.  Those that had been born into slavery, or were too young to remember anything about their origins, usually made different choices.  Some followed lovers.  Some journeyed to new places that they had only heard of before in stories told by others.  Some journeyed far away, while others did not go far.  During the first night that Agron, Nasir, Brion, and Justinus camped after leaving the mountain range behind, the four friends discussed what they would do now with the lives that they had miraculously held onto, despite the best efforts of the Romans to part them from it.  The shortest journey would be to Agron's homeland.  Brion's Celtic home would mean crossing the sea and was some distance further on.  Justinus knew he could never return home, not even to see his mother once more.  He felt sorrow at that, but had no desire to be called a Roman again.  Nasir had no memory of his birthplace.  The decision was made to travel in the direction of Agron's former lands together, which would be much safer for all of them rather than splitting up.   

It took a long time to travel towards lands that Agron had come from.  The four weary travelers had to be cautious at all times.  Eventually they felt fairly secure that the Roman soldiers were no longer on their trail, but they never let their guard down.  Agron had no idea what they would find once they reached his village.  He had left his parents behind when his brother, Duro, and he, set off to make their fortunes.  Their father was a tiller of the land, but both of his sons never felt a desire to follow in his footsteps, although they loved him dearly.  Their father tried to convince them to stay, but their mother knew her sons too well.  Her voice was the one that talked her husband into accepting their decision to leave.  That had been nearly four years ago.  Agron and Duro had barely arrived in a village just west of the Rhine, when Romans raided the town for not paying tribute they owed.  Many of the villagers lost their homes and lives.  The strong young men and women were rounded up and shackled, to be sold in the slave markets of Rome.  There had been no way to get word back to his family, so Agron did not know what awaited him when he returned.  The closer they got to Agron's village, the moodier he appeared to be.  One night, as they sat close together in their tent, Nasir could no longer keep quiet.

"Your brow furrows more with each passing day.  Share burden of thought and see it lightened, Agron."

Agron moved away from Nasir's warm presence and sighed deeply.

"My heart lies heavy in chest, the closer steps take us to my father's house."

"Why is it so?"  Nasir was puzzled.  Agron did not speak of his family often, but the few times he reflected on his past, the memories did not seem distressing.  When Agron next spoke, Nasir could hear the pain in his voice, even with his back turned to him.

"How am I to face our father without the son he gave me charge to protect the day we left?  I failed our parents.  And when he asks for reasons that Duro is not of this world, how do I answer?  Do I confess he gave his life to save mine?  Duro was but a boy when we left, but grown he would have married and given our parents grandchildren.  I can never give them that.  Our family line dies with me."

Nasir was taken aback.  Agron had never mentioned his feelings of guilt over Duro's death.  He had always blamed the Romans, which was the main reason he was so fierce in battle against them.  Actually, Agron had never told him the whole story of how Duro died.  He had learned of it from others who had been at the ludus when the gladiators rebelled and began their war against Rome.  Nasir had long since decided to wait for Agron to bring the subject up if he chose to, rather than confronting his lover for details that he might not wish to think about.  But now that they were on their way back to Agron's birthplace, Nasir realized that Duro's death still weighed heavily on his lover's heart.  He could not let Agron suffer like this.  He chose his words carefully.

Leaning forward and laying his hand gently against Agron's cheek, he answered, "You speak truth for their ears.  It is their right to hear it.  You tell of Duro's bravery, and how the boy became a man when challenged as a gladiator.  If they share the mettle I see in you, they will endure the pain of loss with strength and acceptance.  No blame will fall upon your shoulders... as your brother would have it so.  And if the Fates decree you are the last of your line, so be it.  We are not promised immortality through the generations upon our births.  Only the gods have immortality, and even they may fade from thoughts of men someday."

Nasir paused a moment before going on. 

"Agron, as free men, we choose our paths.  If your wish is for us to travel elsewhere, I will follow you.  Wherever you are, so shall I be."

Agron moved back closer to Nasir, feeling the warmth of his presence again.  Nasir opened his arms and Agron fell into them, laying his head against Nasir's chest.  He could feel his lover's heart beating against his ear.  It was comforting.  Nasir began stroking Agron's hair.  It was not thick and long like his own, but he loved the feel of the short hairs tangling in his fingers.  As Agron recalled the end of that night, the gentle caresses through his hair led to another glorious night of lovemaking with his beautiful Nasir.  It also reaffirmed his decision to return home and face his parents.  With Nasir at his side, he felt he could do anything.  And so they did.  All four of them returned to the village that Agron had called home.  

The Romans had not yet conquered this part of Germania.  That would not come for another fifty years or more, when the Emperor Augustus found them a threat to his expansion of the Empire.  Because of that, Agron returned to a village very much the same as what he had left behind.  Facing his parents without Duro had indeed been difficult, but Nasir guessed correctly as to their reaction to the loss of their youngest.  They had been certain they would never again see either son after word got back to them of their capture, so their grief over Duro's death was tempered by Agron's survival.  They opened their home to Agron and his companions, being unfazed by the relationship they quickly learned he held with the young Syrian.  They had known of Agron's lack of interest in women long before he left the village.  They prepared a feast for their son and his friends. 

The next few years found all four men settling down for a while to help Agron's parents.  With no other children to help, the family had not fared well and there were times that his father had precious little to support their needs.  With four strong men now willing to help, the crops yielded far more during Agron's stay, and their small herds were safer from raids, but eventually the friends found themselves becoming restless.  Brion and Justinus were the first to broach the subject of moving on.  The couple had spent many evenings talking about the lands of the Celts.  Justinus knew virtually nothing about it.  Craigh, his father, took pains to avoid the very mention in his household that he was not Roman born, but instead was of Celtic blood.  Justinus had heard of it, of course, but had never considered what it meant.  Brion eventually had told Justinus the full story of what Craigh had done years before that had brought him to his high position in Rome itself, something that very few non-Romans could attain.  The story led Justinus to feel a strong urge to visit the lands his father had betrayed so cruelly, though he did not really understand why.  He also wanted to see where the man he loved originated from.  He had only known Brion as a slave of Rome and a warrior in a bitter war.  He wanted to know all he could about Brion's roots.  After giving Agron's family years of labor as a sign of gratitude for their friendship and salvation, they knew it was time to strike out on their own. 

The two couples worked together to build a hut large enough for all of them to use not far from the abode of Agron's parents.  As was the custom among the villagers, his parents had a home that included room for their most prized livestock.  The four friends had spent far too much time living under rough circumstances and wanted more privacy.  It wasn't easy for Brion and Justinus to tell Agron and Nasir that it was time for them to leave and make their own way in the world... not after having shared such intense experiences together... but they finally sat down for the evening meal one night and gave voice to their plans.  Agron and Nasir understood their feelings and didn't begrudge them the chance to see more of the world.  They themselves were feeling restless, even though they always felt welcome among Agron's kin.  Once the seasonal crop was brought in, Brion and Justinus gathered their belongings and struck out for Brion's homeland.  It would be a dangerous journey, with the Romans controlling much of the countryside, despite constant warfare with various Celtic tribes.  Their plan did not include staying in areas fully occupied by the Romans.  They would push on once Brion visited the site of his old village.  Many of the Celtic tribes had moved across the channel into Britannia, where Romans had yet to hold sway over the people.  They would attempt to make their home there, if they could, and Brion hoped he could find remnants of his own tribe if any still lived.  The night before Brion and Justinus took their leave, the four friends celebrated their friendship with wine and companionship.  It was an ending to one part of their lives, and the beginning of another.

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Agron saw a dark figure approaching from the tent nearby.  He recognized Brion's tall figure, despite the darkness surrounding them.  He said nothing as Brion reached his side and turned his eyes skyward before speaking.

"Rain will fall before morning light," Brion remarked casually.

"Yes!  The gods favor us."

"How so?" Brion wanted to know.

"Spartacus is the 'Bringer of Rain'.  I asked the gods to give a sign that our purpose is blessed by them."

"I'm of a mind that you disdain existence of any gods."

Agron turned to Brion and grinned.  "Belief is easy when suits purpose," he laughed.

The two men grew silent for a few minutes as their thoughts turned to the goal that had brought them here, together in this place far from both their lands.  It all began a decade earlier.  After nearly five more years of living on his family's farm after Brion and Justinus left, it had become excruciatingly boring for Agron.  Nasir seemed content enough to till the land, as long as he could spend each peaceful night in their warm bed together, but Agron had been a man of action for far too long.  His soul cried out for adventure.  When Nasir saw what was happening to his beloved, he carefully broached the subject of them moving on.  Although they were somewhat isolated from news of the world where they lived, word of important events did reach them thanks to the occasional traveler passing through.  Strangers were always welcome, once they had been carefully scrutinized, and then questioned for any tidbits of news that might be of interest.  It was through some of these rare visits that Agron and Nasir learned of the advancing careers of the three Romans who most affected the fall of their rebellion... Crassus, Pompey, and Caesar. 

About the time that Nasir was thinking that he should let Agron know that he would follow his heart wherever he wished to travel, a young man stopped in their village, along with his wife and baby daughter.  The young man told of his Roman master who had died, leaving behind instructions in his will to grant he and his pregnant wife manumission.  With their freedom in hand, the couple were now on their way back to the land of their birth so they could raise their child among their own people.  They had lived since their teen years in the heart of Rome and knew a great deal of gossip about the city and it's politics, being slaves to a well-respected Senator.  Those who were interested gathered in the village to listen as the stranger shared tales of the stressful situation within the politics of Rome, which included deep fractures between its three most leading citizens... Crassus, Pompey, and Caesar... all of whom sought to be the most powerful entity in the City.  Soon he got to the part of his story that included news of Pompey's triumph over King Antiochus XIII, a feat which allowed Pompey to annex Syria into the Roman Republic. 

Hearing this news seemed to stimulate the more glorious memories of fighting the Romans within Agron's breast.  Later on he would often bring up the idea that many of the people in that region of the world would not take kindly to Roman rule, and how they would need willing warriors to fight back.  Nasir finally knew what he had to do.  The warrior in Agron had been reawakened, and it was time for Nasir to speak his mind.  The couple had spent the evening at the river, bathing after a hard day's labor in the fields.  Agron rested his back against a thick tree trunk, with his naked legs spread out to make room for Nasir to sit between them.  Agron was slowly running a comb through Nasir's long silken hair, removing the water that still clung to the thick strands.  His mind had begun to wander when he heard Nasir saying something to catch his attention.  Agron let his thoughts dissipate so he could understand what Nasir was saying.  He always listened to anything his lover had to say, which usually turned out to be wise words.

Nasir caught hold of one of Agron's scarred hands and pulled it up in front of his face.   He turned the heavily calloused hand over and examined it closely.  Then he sighed deeply.

"Hard labor has returned strength to hands ripped by Roman curs," he declared. 

"It is true... I hold farm tools with confidence once given to sword and shield, but am still robbed of feeling that once I had when touching skin," he added, rubbing his hand along Nasir's bare chest. 

It galled Agron that there was still a certain amount of numbness in his palm and fingers, which kept him from fully being able to feel Nasir's body when he stroked it.  But Nasir was right... he did have most of his strength back when it came to grasping and holding onto things.  Now he wondered why Nasir brought up a subject that Agron did not like thinking about.  Agron pulled his hand away from Nasir's inspection. 

"For what purpose do you drag past into present?" he inquired.

"To remind you of your destiny.  Gods willing, you will see many years more, and only age will halt your objectives.  Until such time, you must follow your path."

"And your path?"

"Always beside you!"

"You would leave comfort of home for me?"

"There is no comfort without you."

Agron's lips pressed into Nasir's glistening hair and he nearly wept with the love that overflowed his heart.  That night, the couple made their plans to leave for Syrian lands as soon as the harvest for the Season came in, just as Brion and Justinus had done years earlier.  They knew Agron's parents would miss having them nearby, but the elderly couple had always known their eldest son was not meant to stay.  Telling them would come as no surprise to them.  However, Agron and Nasir did receive one surprise only weeks before their planned travels.  While in the field one day, they saw two horses approaching.  There was something very familiar about the riders, but they did not fully recognize Brion and Justinus until they had come much closer. 

Greetings between the four old friends were enthusiastic, to say the least.  It was some time before they all had relaxed enough to discuss what had brought their Celtic friends back to Agron's part of the world.  As the four old companions gathered around a huge fire and shared the first meal in years, Brion and Justinus began weaving the tale of their travels, none of which had been what they expected when they left on their own.  Brion explained that there was nothing left from his memories of his youth at home.  The couple had a hard time adjusting to the hardships they found, no matter where they went.  They had to go much further than expected to avoid areas that the Romans had wrested control over.  Eventually, they tired of finding clans who made it clear they were unwelcome to linger for long.  They moved on to more civilized nations where their learned skills with reading, writing, and languages were more appreciated.  They were staying with a wealthy Egyptian architect named Isidorous and his family when they heard of the fall of Syria to the Romans.  Their apprenticeship to the Egyptian was coming to an end with the completion of a temple, so the couple decided it was time to visit their old friends.  They missed the camaraderie with Agron and Nasir, as well as being able to discuss things that no one else would understand.

Their visit changed the course of all their lives.  The four men travelled together to gauge for themselves what the situation was, in and around Syria and Parthia.  What they found was a confusing and disorganized mess, with dynastic squabbles among the leaders so bad that little was being accomplished.  The friends hired themselves out as mercenaries to fight the Romans.  For the most part, they were deemed valuable for their knowledge of Roman tactics.  They often moved from one fighting force to another, never staying anywhere or with any single army of warriors for any great length of time.  Agron and Brion seemed to thrive on the challenge of besting the Romans whenever and wherever they could, while their lovers remained a constant source of support and encouragement.  Even though the two older men were now in their forties, they still fought like the young men they had once been.  Neither was aware that Nasir and Justinus often discussed how much they wanted to settle down someday where there was no longer constant strife.  The two younger men would wait, for as long as it took for their lovers to be ready for peace.  There was some force driving Agron, and Brion to a lesser extent, to wish to remain in the thick of things. 

This remained true during the years that followed, but then word came to them that Crassus, their most hated enemy of all, had been named Consul over Syria.  Not long after that they learned of his desire to make war on the Parthians, using Syria as his launching point.  Both Nasir and Justinus saw an immediate change in the attitude of their lovers.  It was as if a fire had been lit inside them.  They could talk of nothing else, but the idea of Crassus being so close at hand at last.  The men had thought they might get a chance to strike at Pompey, or even possibly Caesar, someday, but this was much better news.  It still took more than a year before they finally reached this time and place where they now stood on this fateful night while rain clouds filled the night sky above their heads.  As Agron and Brion stood together in the chill night air, they recognized that their destiny now lay in the hands of Crassus himself.  The Parthian Commander, General Surena, was waiting on word of his offer to parlay with the Roman Commander, Crassus. 

General Surena had learned of Agron and his friends, and their history with Crassus and taken the men into his confidence.  They had become his advisers in Roman tactics because of their successful battles against Roman troops, especially those led by Crassus, in the past.  In the year and a half that Agron and his men had been with him, the General had come to trust their advice, which led from one victory to another, right up to this point when the vast majority of Crassus's men had been killed or captured.  It was because of this trust that Surena revealed his true orders from his king, which was not to allow Crassus to live.  He was to be killed in order to demoralize the Romans even further and hopefully keep them away from Eastern lands.  It was no secret that the death of Crassus might cause a civil war in Rome between Pompey and Caesar, which would certainly keep them distracted.  Their spies in Rome had passed on this news long ago. 

When Agron learned of Surena's true plans, he happily volunteered to be of help in carrying out Crassus's fate.  After nearly twenty years, Agron was certain that Crassus would not recognize him.  Surena agreed.  Once the envoy returned to camp, a detachment of Surena's men would return to Crassus, not including the General himself, who had no intention of meeting with the Roman dog.  Among this detachment would be four non-Parthians. 

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The light was just barely peeking through the clouds that still filled the horizon when Nasir shook himself awake and reached for Agron.  Not far away, Justinus was waking almost simultaneously.  The two men rose from their empty bedding and wondered what had happened to their men.  Quickly dressing, they left their tents, again almost simultaneously, only to find the area around their tents nearly deserted.  Justinus hurried over to Nasir.  Concern was heavy in Justinus's voice, knowing that momentous events were in the making.

"You stand alone, as do I," he began.  Justinus looked out towards the horizon.  "Do you think of this day as I?"

"If meaning is that life, as we have learned to live it, may change by setting of Sun... then we are of like mind," Nasir agreed.

Before they could say more, they saw Agron and Brion hurrying towards them.  The look on their faces told them what they needed to know, but they waited for the words to be said. 

"He has agreed!" Agron almost laughed.

Nasir and Justinus knew what Agron meant, but still waited to speak.

"General Surena orders us to prepare for travel immediately to meet with Crassus.  Make haste," he instructed Nasir and Justinus.

The men could feel the nervous energy flowing from Agron's body.  At last he had a chance to face Crassus one last time.  He would right the wrong that happened on that bloody hill where Spartacus was struck down.  Agron could have gone after Crassus and finished him off after he knocked the man down the hill, but Spartacus had more need of him in order to escape from the clutches of the Romans.  There would be no distractions this time.  The order had been given, and Crassus would die this day, no matter who struck the fatal blow.  Agron had every intention of it being his hand that had that honor.  With this thought in mind, the four hurried away to gather what they would need for their journey.

It took hours to reach the place where Crassus had agreed to meet the Parthian envoy that was to take him to the King, or so he thought.  Crassus waited in the large tent that had been set up for him.  He was surrounded by the few of his Legates and Centurions who had stood by him, despite the near rebellion by his troops.  Crassus was still convinced that his monetary worth would make him a far better candidate for ransom than as a dead Imperator for the heathen Parthians to display.  When they heard horses approaching, he rose from his table and waited.  Minutes passed that seemed like hours.  Finally the tent flaps parted and a half dozen men stepped through them, spreading apart inside the tent.  Crassus recognized the envoy who had brought the offer of parlay to him in the first place.  His eyes scanned the rest of the group of men, but he did not see anyone resembling General Surena.  He had expected to parlay with the man here, where he had been told to meet. 

"You return without your Commander?"

"We are to bring you to him," the messenger stated bluntly.

Crassus felt a moment of panic, but he had already made his choice.  He nodded his head and started to walk towards the men, all of whom stood with their hands resting firmly on sword hilts.  One of Crassus's men tugged on his arm, holding him back.

"Pause, Imperator.  This reeks of deception."

Crassus pulled his arm free.  "The die is cast.  It is in the hands of the gods," Crassus whispered.

He walked towards the center of the men who stood in front of him.  They parted in the middle and let him pass through the tent opening.  One of his men stood close by with his hands on the reins of Crassus's horse.  Over to the side, Crassus could see many more men in Parthian uniforms sitting atop their horses.  He began to feel even more uncomfortable.  He regretted leaving behind what was left of his troops and agreeing to meet with so few of his men beside him.  He summoned up his courage and reached for the reins of his horse, his back turned towards the riders still mounted nearby.  It was at that moment that one of the mounted men moved forward, separating himself from the others.  Crassus turned to see what was happening, and saw the lone rider swing out of his saddle.  The man was not dressed in the manner of a Parthian soldier.  He stepped in front of Crassus.

"By Jupiter's cock, we meet again," Agron announced, his hand holding a strangely made shield with a blade sticking out of it... a duplicate of the one Nasir had made for Agron nearly twenty years ago.

Crassus was confused.  What did this man mean... meet again?  Crassus tried to remember.  There was something slightly familiar about the man, but he couldn't put his finger on it.  Agron lifted his free hand in front of Crassus's face and showed the deeply scarred palm.  Crassus looked back into Agron's face, and it suddenly hit him like a bolt of lightning.  He remembered the man who had been close to Spartacus... the man he had ordered crucified, but then been forced to release in a bargain to regain his son, Tiberius.  He had thought the man would never be able to fight again.  Yet he remembered seeing the man on the battlefield that important day, carrying just such a weapon as he now held.  Crassus knew, in that instant, what his fate was.

"So I am to be struck down like a common slave, by a coward with an entourage at his back!"

"As Spartacus was struck down by spears from the back with no chance of defense?  But as you say, that is the lot of slaves.  Yet he died a free man!  You could not take that from him," Agron hissed, through gritted teeth.  "Take heart... I will not end your life as you did so many innocent men, women, and children seeking only freedom.  Draw your sword."

"And if it is you that lies dead...?"

Agron grinned in a way that made Crassus shudder.

"It will not be."

The combatants moved away from those that surrounded them.  Nasir, Brion, and Justinus stayed perched on their horses and watched Agron fall into his familiar stance before a fight.  Nasir felt a brief moment of fear.  Agron was not so young any longer and did not wield his weapon very often.  As consultants to leaders of these wars, they spent little time actually in combat.  They had no way of knowing whether Crassus had maintained the sharp skills he was known for during the war with Spartacus.  They held their breath and watched. 

In a lightning move, Crassus pressed an attack.  His sword swung out in an arc, intended to connect with Agron's shield and dislodge it from his grip.  Agron may have been older, but his reflexes still worked beautifully.  He pulled back just in time to deflect the sword with an upper swipe of his shield.  The sound of metal striking metal rang out as the two men fought for control.  Crassus drew first blood with a slight cut to Agron's exposed thigh.  He never felt a thing.  He answered that move with one of his own, which brought Crassus crashing backward to the hard ground.  Agron moved away.  He was not done playing with the man.  Crassus rushed back to his feet, anger suddenly clouding his better sense.  This man, whom he himself had crippled so long ago, should be long dead on the cross like all the other defiant slaves.  Yet here was a remnant of Spartacus still being a threat.  Crassus began fighting without thought, making him more vulnerable with each move.  And then, just as suddenly as it began, the fight was over.  Crassus rushed Agron one time too many and was met by a blow from the blade of Agron's shield, which cut a swath through his neck from ear to ear.

Crassus fell backwards, dropping his sword and clutching at the gaping hole in his throat.  Blood poured down his armoured chest plate, staining the crest engraving there with a bright crimson river.  Agron stepped up to Crassus, squatting there in the dirt.  He leaned down and retrieved Crassus's sword.  He had no way of knowing whether it was the same sword that the man had used when he almost dealt Spartacus a death blow, but it didn't matter.  Crassus looked up, his hands still holding his throat, as if the gesture would seal the wound shut.  His eyes were defiant as he glared at Agron.  Agron grasped the sword with both his free hands so that his grip would be sure.

"For Duro... for Crixus... for Gannicus... for Naevia... for too many to name... and for Spartacus," Agron pronounced grimly.

Agron swung the blade hard, lopping off both head and hands in one fell swoop.  A cheer rose from the throats of the Parthians as they hurriedly corralled the men who had come with Crassus.  Agron knew their fate, but it was of no concern to him.  At last he had kept a silent promise he had made at the gravesite of his dearest friend, Spartacus, so many years ago.  When he turned back to his companions, they had already jumped from their horses and were now embracing him... first Brion, then Justinus, and last Nasir. 

Nasir kissed Agron, then whispered, "It is done!  Spartacus can rest in peace now... and so shall we."

Agron smiled for the first time in a way Nasir had not seen since their victory days over the Roman legions that they had fought so long ago.  As the four friends walked away from the scene of Parthian against Roman behind them, they heard the rumble of thunder and felt the first drops of rain fall from the sky.  Agron looked up and smiled even broader.  He knew the 'Bringer of Rain' was satisfied.

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A year passed... one which found Agron, Nasir, Brion, and Justinus living comfortably in the capital city of the Parthian Empire.  The King, as a reward for their services, provided them with enough coin to set up trade with such goods as silks and spices.  They became successful members of the mercantile class.  Each couple had their own house, with servants to attend their needs... all of whom were well-paid freedmen and women.  Parthia had become a thorn in the side of Rome, so there was the constant threat of war, but Rome was never able to conquer the Empire during their lifetime.  War was no longer a thought in the minds of the two couples.  They had finally had their fill of the taste for it.  For the rest of their lives, the two couples remained close to one another and firmly committed to their lovers.  It was as it should be... as Spartacus would have wished for his friends.

The End