Credit where credit's due: Quite a bit of this segment was written by CrazyBeaver when we first thought up this story together.

"WHAT is the MEANING of this?"

Inspector-General Judicius was livid. They had encountered his sedan chair not two milia passum from the village, and on alighting to inspect the prisoners, he had found one of them damaged. "I thought my express orders were to deliver them in perfect condition to Caesar!"

"Well," the Centurion shrugged, "we can't stop those barbarians from fighting each other, can we?"

"Liar!" bellowed Geriatrix. "As if we'd do that to Asterix!" His wife shushed him as he kept on shouting. "It was those legionaries over there, that great hoodlum with the yellow hair looking as though butter wouldn't melt in his mouth, and the two little shrimps on either side of him!"

The Inspector-General's piercing glare would have put a Corsican to shame. "Did you lie to me, Centurion?"

Callus took a half-step back, then visibly caught himself with an ingratiating smile. "No, no, Inspector! It might be that something happened… a great many villagers, a great many legionaries… Impossible to prevent a scuffle here and there, you know!"

Inspector-General Judicius paced slowly up and down the line of legionaries standing to attention. He stopped before Sebaceus. "You're docked thirty days' pay, legionary. And the two of you, too. Do you have anything to say for yourselves?"

"No sir!" they chorused in unison.

"Good." The Inspector-General turned away, then whirled. "And you had better hope that this old Gaul doesn't die of a heart attack before we get to Rome," he pointed, "because if he has so much as a headache, you'll find yourself in the circus! IS THAT CLEAR?"

"Yes SIR!" the legionaries chorused again.

As Judicius turned away, the tall legionary, Sebaceus, muttered, "Wouldn't have touched him anyway. We know whose fault it really is."

The skinnier of the two shorter legionaries, Sudoriferus, leaned over to his friends. "Should have killed him when we had the chance. He'd be buried by now, and the Inspector-General none the wiser."

"O Roman!" called Vitalstatistix. "I ask you to remove the chains from our warrior. You can see he poses no threat."

Inspector-General Judicius looked at the Gaulish prisoners for a long moment. "I've heard much about you Indomitable Gauls. Too much." He shook his head. "Mercy would dictate that I grant your request, O Gaulish Chieftain, but prudence dictates otherwise." He looked almost regretful. "Request denied."

Vitalstatistix nodded slowly. It had been worth a try.

Falling slowly into place in the spaces between one another, the Gauls formed a marching group and began to prepare for the long trek ahead.

Drama? Hah! By Persephone and Minerva, drama on the stage had nothing on men when they chose to throw logic to the winds. Here Latraviata was trying to avert a crisis, and all either the Gaul or the Roman could do was weep and wail.

Once she had explained what she'd heard to Obelix, and Caesar's shaman – Dream Whisperer, what a lot of bosh, she knew a shamanic ritual when she saw one – had woken up, it had taken her physically standing before the Roman to prevent Obelix beating him unconscious. Fat lot of good that would have done, when Insidius was the one with all the answers.

Finally, Obelix had understood that since Latraviata was the only one not racked with pain or blinded by emotion, it was best to let her ask the questions. The big Gaul had grown paler and paler as Insidius told a tale that Latraviata would hardly have believed if she hadn't seen it herself, seen him speak to Obelix and heard the Gaul answer in his sleep – a tale of setting friend against friend, of using love to breed hate.

"…and then I convinced him that if he left the village, he would be keeping Asterix safe, and then…" The story poured out of Caius Insidius chronologically, without reservation. "And then I had the Secret Service make contact with you, Miss… um… Latraviata, to make it more plausible to have Obelix leave his village…"

Obelix just listened and wept. Latraviata listened, impressed despite herself at the lengths to which this Caius Insidius had gone. What she couldn't work out, though, was why he was being so cooperative, although he had been working against the Gauls until a few moments ago. Although Obelix the Gaul provided a handy threat to keep him talking if he ceased his confession, it didn't seem at all necessary: Caesar's agent was filled with some kind of inexplicable regret, and seemed positively eager to make amends.

She glanced over at Obelix. Just as well the Roman agent was being cooperative, as the big Gaul didn't seem like much of a threat at the moment. Half-crazed with misery, he just sat, staring into space like the living dead. "I should have talked to him…" he breathed. "I should have told him…" He choked. "Asterix would have listened. Asterix would have known…"

"Oh, shut up." Latraviata turned to Caesar's agent. "And then, after getting Obelix away from the village – what's supposed to happen next?"

"He—he…" The shaman swallowed. "I don't know too much about their plans. But I know they were meant to kidnap the druid, and then capture the villagers once it was certain the place was unguarded."

"I left him… I left him alone…" Obelix blinked hard through his tears. She supposed it was a lot to take in, but this was no time to wallow in emotion. Obelix finally turned to the shaman. "So you weren't really my conscience?" he confirmed. "It was all just a Roman plot?"

"Yes…" the little Numidian nodded. "O Mater…" he murmured to himself, as he had been doing off and on since the spade to the head. A grown man crying out for his mother, dear Semele, give me strength! "Shown to me… How shall I ever make amends…"

"I believed it…" Obelix trembled. "I betrayed Asterix… for nothing…"

"Oh shut up, the pair of you." Latraviata whirled to the Gaul. "Obelix! Pull yourself together! By Persephone, I shouldn't have exposed him as Caesar's agent!" she snapped. "I should have just let you keep believing he was your conscience, if all you can do is reenact Euripides!"

"Who?"

She almost slapped Obelix, but restrained herself. "Look. You're the village's only chance now. We take this miserable worm," Caesar's agent appeared not to protest at his new moniker, "with us, find the druid and rescue your friends. Asterix will be among them." She watched Obelix's face clear at the mention of the dear name.

"I left him," Obelix looked into her eyes, as though begging her to understand. "I left him."

"And when you find him, you can beg his forgiveness to your heart's content."

"I..."

"I wager he'll grant it," Latraviata was fast losing patience and she was not a patient woman to begin with, "but it's best we not wait till they're halfway to Rome and they WILL be halfway to Rome if you don't GET A MOVE ON!"

"The druid was to be taken to one of the fortified camps," Insidius volunteered. "I know that much. Totorum, if I recall."

Latraviata frowned. "Those are well guarded. How shall we get him out of there?"

Obelix looked up for the first time, the shadow of a spark in his eyes. "You can leave that to me."

As the Gauls marched, everyone's attention was on Asterix. They kept rearranging the marching order to check on his health. Vitalstatistix was finding it hard to get close to him, despite his chains. The villagers all wanted to get close to him, to whisper encouragement and reassurance, and they weren't above elbowing their chief aside to do it. Fulliautomatix was constantly having to slow or modify his pace for the well-wishers. Carrying the tiny warrior was easy for the big blacksmith, and nobody wanted to cause him the agony of moving, so nobody offered to take his burden for the time being: they let him remain in the makeshift litter, and moved around him. Vitalstatistix had to admit to himself that Inspector-General Judicius had been a bit of a disappointment. He hadn't seriously expected the Roman to order his injured Gaulish prisoner out of his shackles and into a litter, even though it had been worth a try.

So they marched on, due to stop in the forest on the way sometime that evening. Vitalstatistix could see why the villagers all wanted to comfort Asterix. They could see how hurt he was – and not just physically. Callus had done his best to break their warrior's will. Vitalstatistix wished he could find some way to let Asterix know that they didn't think any less of him, that he was respected as before.

Bacteria, the fishmonger's wife, shuffled close to where the village warrior hung limply in the arms of her husband's friendly enemy. "Save your strength, Asterix," she said. "We'll need it later."

Vitalstatistix smiled, despite the chains and the desperate situation. Bless you, Bacteria, he thought.

"We believe in you, oh arr, we do," Bucolix said, taking his turn walking alongside Fulliautomatix.

Cacofonix was next. "It's all right. Just get some rest and you'll be right as rain in no time."

One by one, the villagers rallied round, pledging encouragement and compassion. Several miles into the march, Asterix struggled in Fulliautomatix's arms. "Let me…" he muttered. He appeared to be slightly revived, even trying to open his swollen eyes.

"Don't do anything idiotic," was Fulliautomatix's tactful response.

"I should pull my weight at least!" Asterix found the strength to say.

"Oh for heaven's sake," snapped Fulliautomatix. "Look, Asterix. You've taken care of us so many times, just rest now until you can again. All right?"

Vitalstatistix wasn't at all sure that was the right thing to say, but it must have been. Asterix, seemingly calmed, relaxed back into the blacksmith's apron and closed his eyes.

They marched on.