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Buteus did not receive his friend's dire warning well. “What do you mean, Clemens?! Are we sailing to our deaths?”

“I ... don't know. I fear something ... magical is afoot.” Answered the augur. “Something ... dire.”

“Magic?” Asked Buteus, incredulous, “But friend, magic doesn't exist! Magic is stories told to children that they might obey their parents,” he continued, laughing nervously.

“You believe that, friend? You just saw me predict the future, and you do not believe in Magic? Ha!” Clemens then looked around to make sure that no-one could hear them, and he saw that Kemsa was approaching. “Let us speak more of this later,” louder he added, “Our young Aegyptian friend approaches!”

Kemsa waved to the two older men – his mentors, of sorts, in the legion. Uh oh, thought Kemsa, they look serious. The last time they looked like that, the eighth contubernium dragged me into the desert in my sleep as some sort of hazing ritual. Once he was closer, he called “Ave, Buteus! Ave, Clemens!” The two older men greeted him in kind.

“So, Kemsa,” said Buteus, “you ready? You've never been on ship before, have you?”

“Not really. I've sailed up and down the Nile a few times, but I've never been on board anything bigger than a river boat.”

“Well, you can be assured that this will be a completely incomparable experience. If you are needed at the oars, you may go days without seeing the sky. And that is the least of it!” Responded Buteus.

Clemens continued, “I remember my first time aboard ship. I was younger even than you are, Kemsa. We were in a storm for two, maybe three days. The decks of the ship were swaying so strongly that I thought the world was ending. That was when I truly came to understand worship. And it worked – the world did not end! But quiet – the Centurion speaks.”