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Atranio and Kamil became a peculiar brand of the town. On the eighth of March, in day of their commemoration, in all churches of the city ring bells, long queues newly married, wishing to get married this day queue up to temples, and grooms in million time retell to brides the love story of Atranio and Kamilli which acquired a thick layer of mysticism. This story, mysterious and cruel, touches heart of each visitor. Locals got used to it as to a cracked bell of local Duomo, - and we will try to clean it from myths and to present how the documentary. *** Mark Afrany, in the past primipit (a *starshy officer rank – a bus comment). The Macedonian legion, banished in backwoods for murder of the drunk legionary, recently itself I didn't come unstuck from a bowl with wine. The animal fighter who shed so much Dacia blood that it would be enough to fill all bathtubs Rima, Afrany considered himself the person cool and insensible, and had on that the reasons. At legionaries he deserved the semi-respectful, semi-spiteful nickname "Ice Hatchet", and itself secretly was proud of him. But the service which he had to bear here in a solitude, was not to liking to him. Afrany knew, of course, that Christians it is worse than barbarians that they loosen the power of the great Caesar Diokletian and therefore are liable to ruthless destruction if persist in false belief; he couldn't but know this truth and not follow it. But... Stirred up Afrany from hundreds of crucified bodies, and stirred up the stronger, than more he despised the service. Fight with docks - one business, and absolutely another - daily murder without danger, without risk, murder haughtily. The inner voice sunk by Afrany in wine repeated to him more and more loudly that his role - a role of the coward. His subordinates reveled in impunity, and Afrany hated them for it, взыскуя from them the slightest fault birches and night watches. Afrany secretly didn't believe neither in any Gods, nor in Roman, nor in barbaric, and I believed only in the mind and force. But it was not his business, put it - to execute orders, and Afrany carried out, even more often thinking of death in fight, as of the blissful, forever lost dream. Earlier Afrany communicated with a wine crater (a *bolshy bowl – a bus comment) only at night, being on service collected and passionless. But recently he began to be seen even more often with a red nose. Policemen whispered behind his back, scaredly becoming silent at his first approach. Afrany knew it, but to him was all the same. "Really I became limp in this stinking hole so, - he wondered, - what he lost any strength of mind? "He knew that alcoholism corrupts mind. Even more often he was pursued by a strange chill in boobies, disgusting and sickening, and even more often he turned the head, as at the decrepit grandfather. *** he hid from himself the reason of the confusion, though perfectly understood it. From tortures and executions of ordinary Christians stirred up it, but no more, and to a plebs and the slaves making their main weight, it couldn't belong, as to equal to. But recently the situation changed: other captive - Camilla Placidia, the sixteen-year-old daughter of the local patrician Cillian Camilla Placidia came to his casemates. Certainly, Camilla's arrest was a consequence of intrigues against her family, and be not at her father of enemies, nobody would touch Camilla, she though prays to a chamber-pot, - but she really was a Christian. And it meant the worst because Christians never renounced the belief, - and even much more terrible and intolerable, than just the end. Afrany met Camilla several times. Once she left a stretcher on the city square, approached the fountain, - and Afrany stiffened as a statue, having stared at the high girl girl easy and prompt as a stream of transparent water. She bent down, and a fabric corner, having leaned back down, slightly opened a breast tip with a hard nipple... Another time he decided to start talking to her, being indignant at himself that he is afraid of black eyes of Camilla stronger, than the Dacia spear. He despised patricians, considered them brainless mollycoddles - so it both was, of course, - and was afraid to be convinced of it again. But the first answer convinced him of the return: - Whether will damage to a house flower fresh air? Whether madam is afraid to expose to the wind a nose? - Whose nose, mister fighter? From us the word "is afraid" of two suits more you because I am quiet, and you shiver as if you talk to a tiger. Passionless Afrany I will choke, but I managed to get it together: - And you are compared to any tiger! You are so biting - but only words. I didn't get used to be at war words. The sword is more habitual to me...-Yes, a word not a sword, you won't seize him by the handle. An unusual and strange thing - a word, isn't it? Especially for the fighter... Their sword-play as if cleaned off a long-term raid of dust from Afraniya's mind. Camilla was clever, educated, and Afrany grieved for a sophisticated conversation, as for risk and courage of former fights. The only person with whom Afrany could be himself - it is sober and clear the conceiving cynic not creating illusions - I lived nearby, but for quite some time now they were divided by an abyss. It was Guy Gratsian, the impoverished rider and the fan of ancient rolls. Once, at Galliyena (the *rimsky emperor – a bus comment), he got to disgrace, and life hung him by a thread. And then the Afrany, devoted dog of the Caesar, made a grave sin. He covered the old friend in the house, and directed legionaries to a false trail. Then he also broke up with Gratsian forever, having declared him that he doesn't wish to talk to the Caesar's enemy more. Gratsian then abandoned him with heavy feeling: with gratitude for the kept life and with bitterness for the died friendship. It told then that Afrany when it falls into disgrace (he and told - "when", but not "if"), will be able always to count on his help. Afrany didn't answer him... After murder Galliyena Gratsian located near the place of the link of Afraniya, living in a lonely country house, - but they never saw each other any more.... Conversations with Camilla were limited to casual meetings. Afrany waited for them as good weather. He didn't know whether it was interesting to Camilla who read so many treatises how many didn't dream also Gratsian. He didn't know anything except that Camilla - the only mind in this solitude equal to him that she is insufferably good that she has sparkling agate eyes from which cuts in heart and that any hopes on bigger, than he has no casual meetings. From time to time brought neighboring girls to him – bolshegrudy, sad and timid. Sometimes they were accompanied by mother or the mother-in-law. Afrany vozlegat on a bed, and the girl, having stripped to the skin, licked his phallus. Sometimes mother showed her as to do it, sometimes they licked his phallus together – both a head and balls. Then the girl, having wrinkled with shame and contempt for itself, I saddled him, it was put on his phallus and shaken on him, and mother helped her, caressing Afraniya of egg and an anus. Girls seldom streamed a seed, most often Afrany the first injected into them a portion of fiery liquid, enjoying a sweet maiden bosom – the phallus was dipped into him, as into a soft peach. Sometimes, if the girl was beautiful, Afrany caressed her, kissed her nipples, embraced, pressed to himself, imagining that it is Camilla... Then the girl left, having received the sesterce. On the street she was waited by the beloved, she gave him revenue, told about impressions - and they went home, having embraced, and Afrany looked at them from a window, thinking of Camilla... And here Camilla - in his casemates. Camilla, HIS Camilla... *** as well as all legionaries, Afrany got used to torments and by death, as to air. They were connected for him with war, with campaigns, and recently - and with casemates. But life of people whom he saw around himself - usual life with her life with habits and trifles - wasn't combined in his mind with torture and blood. And here Camilla, gentle, young Camilla, almost the child, is doomed to tortures at one thought of which wine asked away from a stomach. He didn't decide to come to her. For the first time he clearly understood that he is afraid that won't be able not only to speak with her, but also to look in her agate face, - both despised himself, and suppressed contempt in the threefold portions of wine. He knew also that he won't break the debt, so - Camilla is doomed. But... after all he didn't sustain. After all he went down to her when he learned that she should pass the first stage: castigation by belts. It was only very sick, but not fatally and isn't even crippled. Of course, Camilla won't renounce the belief – and then she is waited by what it is impossible and to think of. It was necessary to tell her about it, while the getting is good. News of the future castigation of Camilla dipped Afraniya into a disgusting chill. Driving away a ring in ears, he saw then the turned room and realized that he was in a minute faint... When in the evening Afrany entered to it the cam and saw her - he couldn't constrain shout. First, he for the first time saw Camilla of naked. She hung, tied to a cross-shaped crossbeam, and let her hair down twisted her body to the legs. Her figure flew down a smooth bend down as a wave. The waist wasn't thicker than a leg of any legionary, but hips were poured by already juicy force which was holding apart them in breadth and on shameless sponges the dense down curled; boobies puffed up elastic fruits, nipples - small chubby buds... It existed the thinnest and flexible body almost already mature for love, but such touching that made horney not lust, but affection - as well as all childlike, semi-adult, only just dismissed to life.... And this the most gentle of bodies was covered with dense bruises - from top to bottom, from smooth legs to shoulders. Lilac strips and grazes dazzled on Camilla's skin, as on a skin of a zebra. Afrany saw anything, - but having seen the crucified Camilla, naked and iskhlestanny, felt a disgusting chill in boobies again. The exhausted Camilla's eyes, having seen Afraniya, nevertheless quickened. She was surprised: - You? - I heard the Afrany weak voice. - In such look, mister fighter, I, apparently, didn't talk to you yet... She found forces for irony though her lips were hardly moved. Her voice was strained by shout and sounded as a cracked hand bell.-... I bet: recently you were ready... well, say, to eat with no drink all dialogues of Platon... to see me in such look. Isn't it? And I would die from shame... but now to me, perhaps, not to shame. However, cosmetics with which I was decorated by your gerkulesa, hardly to you to liking... I, by the way, was surprised, having learned from them that you are a local Caesar...-Camilla!. Afrany stayed at her three hours. He convinced her, asked, demanded, shook her for hackneyed shoulders, bit lips and swore so that hummed in a stomach. In the end he told her THAT he waits for her, faltering and growing cold with own words. Camilla listened, and in her eyes the horror appeared. At last, when Afrany exhausted and became silent, she told: - Here is how... Means, here is how... Lips didn't obey her. Afrany saw that she is fatally frightened, to a shiver, to a faint, - and begged: - Renounce the god, Camilla! Bow to good old Roman gods, still not late!