Chapter 8: An Arrival from Rome

In Rome, as Caesar was awaiting news from Gaul, a little boy was playing quietly in his cubiclum* with small wooden figures... and a tiny menhir made of real Armorican granite! A one-of-a-kind piece, made by a great friend he would never forget, and whom he was about to see very soon.

"Applejus, sweetheart, you can keep on playing, but just tell me which togas you want to pack," called a beautiful Roman lady in a white toga, coming in with an armful of different child-size togas.

Looking up from his game, the little Roman smiled at his mother and joined her, looking at clothes she was showing him. "Mummy, you know Obelix won't care what I wear!"

"Still, you're going to his birthday party, darling!" smiled the young mother. "You can wear something a bit smarter. Especially as it's both Obelix and Asterix's birthday. Two birthdays at the same time, that's a rare event! Pick out the ones you like. Your favorite can be for the party and the others for the rest of your stay in Armorica."

The boy looked over the togas carefully: there was a green one with yellow borders, a white one with blue edging, a yellow one with green piping and so on, then selected a sky-blue toga with gold trim. Seeing the smile on the face of her son and his sparkling eyes, Dulcia understood immediately. "Perfect. The blue one's for the party. Choose two or three more, then we'll finish up your packing and set off."

"Can I bring my toys?"

"Now what kind of mother would keep her son from taking his toys?" she smiled. "Take your favorite little toys. And don't forget your gift! I put it in your closet."

Dulcia went out again with the blue gown, leaving his son to finish packing the things he wanted to take on his visit to his friends. In the living room, the boy's father, Meticulus, was finishing a mosaic, commissioned by the Emperor Caesar himself. "Did you get the likeness?" asked his wife.

"It wasn't easy, but I finally did it. I prefer to work with flesh-and-blood models, not from engravings. Those only show you a pale reflection of the model. I wonder why Caesar wanted this made, though."

Curious, the young woman scrutinized her husband's work, a marvelous mosaic depicting a woman with golden hair in a high chignon, wearing the gown of a priestess covered with sequins of silver, white and blue. "It is odd," she said finally.

"Perhaps it's his latest conquest."

"Meticulus!" his wife reproached him gently. "If Caesar heard you, you'd end up as a snack for the lions! And think of the anger of Cleopatra!"

"I didn't say a thing! I'm just the mosaic-maker," laughed the artist, resuming his work.

"Come on. Stop talking nonsense and get the cart ready. Applejus is waiting for you."

"Yes, my lady!"

Under the smiling gaze of his wife, Meticulus exited the house, never knowing that the woman he had just depicted in his mosaic was sowing terror in Armorica, where his son was about to join his friends.

In Gaul, not far from the Forest of the Carnutes, Frima glided quietly through the woods, freezing the ground beneath her feet as she went. She had walked for days and knew exactly where she was going. Ignoring the sign forbidding entry to non-druids, the young woman, almost solemnly, up to a headstone in the earth. A name in Celtic letters was is engraved into the granite. A name she knew well: Goscinnix! She knew that her father would have journeyed here to be buried in the sacred ground of the Druids. And in a small sealed pot was the thing she wanted. With some respect for the grave, she came near, and tried to lift the pot... only to find that it was carved right into the stone. "Ah, Father. You were always too cautious. But there is no magic that can defeat ice!"

With a gesture of her hand, she sent out a cloud of ice to surround the pot. It shattered into a thousand pieces, releasing its contents: a translucent stone, sending out purple and blue reflections. With a slight smile on her face, she seized it. "I knew you were there! Getafix can deny it no longer. His memory will return!"

Without another word, she walked away, thinking about what had happened before she had ended up a prisoner of the urn.

Flashback

In the coniferous forests of eastern Gaul, Goscinnix and his wife Galatine were known as the greatest magicians of the region. He was a druid respected by all, with many acquaintances; she was a priestess of the Forest who knew all of its herbs and poisons. Together they had two children: a daughter named Frima and a boy by the name of Getafix. Their eldest was called Frima because she was born in the middle of a harsh winter, and quickly fell ill because of the cold. Goscinnix had managed to treat her with a very rare form of magic... but he knew there were likely to be side-effects. But he would never have believed what came to pass.

It happened one summer day. The sky was clear and a cool wind was blowing around the mountains. Getafix was about five years old, and Frima nearly sixteen. The two mages' children knew the forest better than anyone. So, laughing, hair flying, the girl barefoot, they ran between the trees. Suddenly Getafix noticed something in a tree: an animal skin. "Frima, look at this!"

The girl approached the object, when a huge man dressed in animal skins came out from behind the tree. "Well, well," he said, "what have we here?"

Frima shrank back and grabbed Getafix's shoulder. But the little dark-haired boy just looked at his sister in surprise. This man was strange and scary, but nothing to panic about. "Who are you?" asked the little boy.

"I am a lost Viking."

"The lands of the Vikings are far from here," said Frima suspiciously. "You'd have to get here by boat. What are you doing in Gaul?"

"I'm traveling to seek my fortune."

"There's a fortune of natural riches in this forest!" smiled little Getafix, still innocent.

"But I see a fortune already! Two adorable children, a young boy and a ravishing maiden, certainly still virgin! You will make excellent slaves!"

Before the brother and sister could react, the Viking snatched up Getafix and took him under his arm. The boy screamed, struggling.

"Let go of my brother, you dirty barbarian!" screamed Frima, running towards their attacker. He seized her violently by the arm; his grip was such that the girl thought he would break the limb. Crying out in pain, she struggled to get free. Fear seemed to freeze her body; she felt cold as ice.

A beam of ice shot from her hand, striking the tree near them. Stunned, the Viking loosed the two children, who bolted out of his reach. But the barbarian stood there, stupefied by what had just happened. The girl glared at him. "You're a monster!" he shouted.

A heavy branch of the tree, weakened by the ice, snapped off suddenly and fell onto the Viking. Its weight was such that the man was killed instantly, to the screams of two children. Getafix turned to his sister, astonished. "Frima! How did you do that?"

The girl, sitting in the grass that froze on contact, looked at her hands as though there was blood on them. "I don't know."

Goscinnix looked at the hands of his daughter, worried. He had feared that something might happen because of the spell she had undergone as a baby, but never anything like this. Galatine watched her husband, while treating a small cut on Getafix's arm. His eldest child sat on a stool, trembling, white as a sheet, ice forming everywhere her body touched. "I've never seen anything like it. It seems as though your body has the power to create ice, and that you control it."

Frima stilled. "But that's impossible!"

"That's how it is, I'm afraid. It must be a side-effect of the Winterspell."

"What spell?" asked Getafix.

The children's parents looked at each other, hesitating, then their father calmly began to speak. "A few days after you were born, Frima, you fell prey to a terrible violent fever. You stopped crying; you were literally burning up from the inside. So... I used a rare spell, called the Spell of Winter. I made you swallow the coldest ice found on the highest mountain in the world, together with ice from the depths of a deep lake, then bathed you in the cold waters of the lake. This spell brought your fever down, but it also made you insensitive to cold, and it leached the brown out of your hair and made you ice-blonde. I knew the spell was risky, but I didn't want to lose my daughter. I think the spell gave you powers of ice."

Frima stilled, looking down at her hands, distraught. When her mother approached her— "No!" she yelled, jumping up. "Keep away from me! I don't want to hurt you!"

Galatine and Goscinnix stared at her, saddened. Panoramix looked at his parents, outraged and shocked that they had dared to hide such a thing from them... then he jumped up and ran to Frima. His sister shied away from him, but the boy grabbed her hand, disregarding her frantic cries. The little boy smiled happily. "You saved me, Frima!"

"He called me a monster..." shuddered the girl, thinking back to the man she had accidentally killed.

"Frima, darling!" Goscinnix interrupted. "That Viking tried to kidnap you both and sell you as slaves. He's the monster, not you!"

"But Daddy, you didn't see what I did…"

"Whatever you did, Frima, you had no choice," smiled Galatine.

"But I couldn't control it!" sobbed Frima. "Getafix wants to be a druid, and I wanted to be a bard or a priestess of Belisama! What am I going to do? What will happen when people find out?"

"No-one will ever know!" said her father, placing his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "It'll be our secret. Every druid has secrets. Nobody will know. We'll help you learn to control your magic."

"Is that even possible?" stammered the trembling girl.

"Of course!" Getafix smiled fondly. "You're my big sister, Frima! I could never see you as a monster!"

Frima felt the tears running down his cheeks. Moved, she dropped to her knees and took her brother in her arms. At this time, neither Goscinnix nor Galatine could have ever thought their children would one day be enemies.

End Flashback.

In the village, Getafix had just finished inspecting and bandaging Cacofonix's arms. "There! Another few days, with proper care, and your wounds will be healed," smiled the druid, handing back the young man's tunic.

The bard nodded; he shuddered to see the bandages that hid the bleeding wounds on his arms. It had been several days since he had come to stay at the druid's, hiding out in his hut, afraid to come out and face the other villagers. If what Getafix had said was true, he had spoken out loud every awful thing he had ever thought about the others or about the village. Getafix had allowed him to stay in his hut until such time as he felt ready to come out.

After making sure the boy was all right, Getafix came out of his hut to take the air, throwing a quick glance at Obelix's hut, where he saw Asterix in his friend's quarry. The little warrior had spent the last few days going back and forth between his hut and his friend's. He bent to pick up a tiny piece of granite that looked like a menhir under Dogmatix's sad gaze, then walked back to his own hut to sit on his bench, turning the mini menhir over in his hands. The brave little Dogmatix rubbed against his legs, whining mournfully, inadvertently forcing the little warrior to pick him up and set him on the bench next to him, before turning back to his contemplation of the fragment of granite.

After spending the last few days calming down the anxious, not to say furious, villagers (especially Unhygienix), Vitalstatistix came out of his hut for a walk through the village to calm his nerves. On his way, though, he caught sight of Asterix sitting miserably on his bench. Saddened, he joined Getafix. "He really doesn't look good at all," muttered the Chief.

"Who could blame him?" said Getafix. "Asterix has always been with Obelix, even before he fell into the cauldron. They have always taken care of each other; knowing Obelix is in danger, and being so helpless to do anything about it, has got to get him down. He was just beginning to get better, but Cacofonix's words gave him a relapse."

"Oh, er… What shall I tell the others about Cacofonix?"

"Tell them the truth! Lying would do nothing, just give Frima another weapon to use against us."

"She… Might she do it again?"

"She is desperate to help Caesar and get what she wants. She will certainly use other spells and try to pit us against each other."

"No, what I meant was: Could she use that spell against Cacofonix again?"

"The Broken Mirror? No, no fear of that. This spell has the disadvantage and the advantage of being a single-use enchantment. Once it's been used on someone, the subject cannot be bewitched by it again. He is immune. Cacofonix has nothing more to fear from this spell."

The Chief sighed with relief. Although he did not dare to face the young man yet, it was reassuring to know that he would never again be in this alarming state. But he and the druid know they would have to use extreme care to talk to Asterix and bring him back to a more normal state so that he could help them. Against Frima, they would definitely need the help.

All unaware of what their Gaulish friends were going through, the Meticulus family was just arriving in Armorica after a journey of several days. Applejus was bubbling over with excitement. "Dogmatix can play with me, and I'll help Obelix to teach him to chase menhirs!"

"Slow down there, Applejus!" interrupted his father. "I don't want to find you under a menhir when I come back for you!"

"Don't be the heavy, now," smiled Dulcia. "Obelix will take care of him. And friends are meant to have fun together."

"All the same, he shouldn't make light of menhirs! Those things can cause weighty issues!"

Suddenly, a Roman patrol stepped into the road ahead of them. "HALT!"

"Drat," grumbled Meticulus, stopping the cart.

"Patrol from the fortified camp of Aquarium! State your business here," said the leader.

"Meticulus, mosaic-maker. We're here to visit some old friends."

"In this region?"

"We older Romans enjoy the fresh air of Armorica."

The leader hesitated, then turned to the other legionnaires. "What do you think, mates?"

"Well, there hasn't been much trouble for some time."

"Yes, the Gauls have been quiet lately."

"Don't forget, though, that pair's birthday is coming up! You remember what happened to the relief when they arrived at Totorum a couple of years ago? The big fat brute completely flattened them!"*

"Right," said the leader. "You may pass, but be careful! There are crazy barbarians in this neck of the woods!"

Meticulus gave a quick nod to the legionaries and moved on with his family.

The patrol of Aquarium continued on their rounds, when they came across a legionary from Compendium whistling cheerfully, picking berries off a bush. They goggled to see that he was alone and unarmed. "Hey! Ave, legionary!" called the leader, approaching the solitary legionary, who looked up. "Which camp are you from, mate?"

"Legionary Fleabitus, Camp of Compendium," he said simply, straightening. "Ave, friends!"

"But… but what are you doing away from camp, all alone? Do you want to get massacred?"

"Who by?"

"'Who by?' Have you been stationed here long?"

"Hmm… About two years."

"And you ask 'who by?' By one of the maniacs from the village nearby! Especially the big fat brute stuffed with magic potion!"

Fleabitus looked at the legionaries and burst out laughing. The men of Aquarium couldn't help wondering if he hadn't already been hit on the head. Calming his merriment, the Compendium man explained, "You must not be in the know, then? There's a guest of Caesar's at Compendium."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"What it's got to do is, thanks to her, we don't have to be afraid of the big fat brute anymore!"

The Aquarium men stood quite still. Could it be? Had Caesar really found someone strong enough to defeat their worst enemy?

"Enough of that already, Fleabitus! Explain yourself!"

"Huh! It will no longer be a secret when the village of madmen turns Roman; then I can explain everything."

After they had passed the patrol, Meticulus knew the village was not very far. Anyway, all the paths led there. But in order not to attract attention, the parents agreed that they would drop Applejus a few meters away, close enough that their son was in no danger but far enough that the patrols wouldn't ask questions.

"Why can't you come too?" Applejus asked again.

"I've already told you, son. I still have orders to finish," sighed his father.

"Don't worry," his mother smiled, laying her hand on the boy's cheek. "We'll be back soon to get you. It's not as though you're lost. You know them all, and Asterix and Obelix will always be with you."

The boy smiled and put his arms around his mother. It was almost as though he felt something was wrong… but he couldn't believe that. Nothing could ever happen to his Gaulish friends!

Meticulus stopped the cart and retrieved his son's bundle. "Here. Follow the path straight to the village. All right, my big boy?"

"All right, Dad!" the boy grinned, taking his things.

"Have a good time, darling," smiled his mother, kissing him on the cheek. Applejus gave a little groan (like every little boy who pretends to be annoyed that his mother is treating him like a baby), hopped down from the cart and moved away towards the village. With a final wave to his parents, he disappeared into the bushes. Dulcia and Meticulus watched him, smiling, finding his impatience adorable. Then they moved off before they came across another patrol. "I do hope everything will be all right," Dulcia sighed.

"Oh, our Applejus isn't a baby any more, Dulcia," smiled her husband. "Besides, what could happen to him with the Gauls?"

No sooner had he said that a cold wind sprang up, frightening the horses pulling the cart. Both Romans shivered at the sudden drop in temperature; but suddenly Dulcia was swept up into the air by a violent, freezing gust that seemed to hold her in a cold fist. The young woman screamed as her husband was sucked upwards in turn; their horses and cart began to freeze solid, changing into ice. In alarm, both of them watched as a woman garbed in the white gown of a priestess walked towards them, a cloud of silver snowflakes around each of her hands. "Now here's something unexpected!" she smiled. "What would Romans be doing in Armorica, in the one place that still holds out against the invaders?"

The couple stared, surprised and terrified. It was the woman from the mosaic commissioned by Caesar! What was she doing here? Especially as there was nothing reassuring about her icy stare, to say nothing of the cold smile that crept over her lips.

Hopping between rocks and over stumps, Applejus finally arrived at the village. It was quiet, but although fish fights were common (as he had observed during his last visit), this wasn't the busiest place in the ancient world. Nothing like Rome! Overjoyed, he rushed straight to the hut of his hero. "OBELIX!"

Asterix froze to hear that voice. Not just him: the whole village was startled. Stupefied, they came out of their huts to see the little Roman run to the menhir-maker's hut, jogging past the chief and the druid with no more than a quick wave. While everyone stared, stunned that they had forgotten the child's arrival, Asterix literally jumped to his feet when he saw the boy. "Applejus?"

Dogmatix, happy to see his young Roman friend, ran to the little boy, who had just reached Obelix's hut... but the child was surprised to find it empty. In fact, it had the signs of having been uninhabited for several days. Dust had started to accumulate on the furniture, showing a complete absence of life. This frightened him. His joy seemed to drop, like a weight, into his stomach.

A slightly sad barking made him look down at Dogmatix. The little dog was barking and rubbing against his legs, seeking solace. Applejus bent to pick him up and hugged him tightly, delighted to see the adorable little black and white furball... but he sensed that something was wrong. Especially when he saw Asterix running to him, all alone. "What are you doing here, Applejus?" Besides being visibly surprised by his presence, Asterix was clearly filled with fear and grief, indeed, with despair.

"Asterix… where's Obelix?"

The innocent question struck like a sword into Asterix's heart. The warrior did all he could to hide his grief from the child... but tears sprang to his eyes, and he paled visibly. Applejus trembled, unable to credit what his heart already understood. He shook his head as his eyes filled with tears. "No... no no no..."

Asterix couldn't bear to see him cry. He knelt and opened his arms, letting Applejus bury himself in his embrace and weep. He pulled the child tenderly against him, knowing what it was to lose a friend. Seeing the boy in tears, Getafix and Vitalstatistix approached. When they were standing by his side, Asterix looked up at them. "What's Applejus doing here?" he asked, still comforting the little boy, who forced himself to dry his tears.

The Chief and druid looked a little embarrassed—especially as Asterix's voice held a hint of reproach, a sign that he suspected that they had something to do with this unexpected arrival. Fiddling nervously with his cape, Vitalstatistix forced a sheepish grin. "Surprise..."

Author's Notes:

That was chapter 8 of my Asterix fiction. We're getting to the start of the big problems, but also the arrival of a small solution. I know I have changed "Applejus" to "Apeldjus" but I checked and the new spelling is correct. [Translator's note: I have Anglicized it to Applejus, and also Petiminus, his father, to Meticulus – it seemed appropriate.]

A small reference to Once Upon a Time, with colored stones in a box.

And Frima's first flashback. If you didn't get it: Frima was born with light brown hair, but after the Winterspell, her hair turned ash blonde. Getafix had brown-black hair.

Segratlépus comes from "He scratches fleas" [Translator's Note: Fleabitus]

Footnotes*:

23 *Name designating a bedroom, see "Laurel Wreath"

24 *See "Obelix and Co." Although in this album, only Obelix's birthday is celebrated, we can imagine that Asterix, remembering their birthday, suggested a surprise gift for Obelix with the help of the others, and that the banquet was then a celebration of both birthdays. In addition, Obelix offers the Romans "on me" at the end, so this could be taken as a belated birthday gift for Asterix.