 The Lizard and the Mosaic Cicely, 287 C. The travelling menagerie made its final stop for the year in Cecilia. Within its cages, creatures from across Rome were viewed, and taunted by the public. Children mocked the elephants pacing in their cage. The camel leopards, their necks stunted by low ceilings, recoiled in fear from a crack of whips. The tigers looked over their captors, hungry for actual meat, fantasizing about the taste of their torturous flesh. Special pity had to be given to the creature in the farthest enclosure, however. It was supposedly young, hatched from an egg no more than six months ago, but it already was heavy enough to crush wood beneath its feet. Nobody knew what to make of it. It was classified as a spine-backed crocodile by the menagerie's owner, but it avoided all water that it didn't drink. It refused all meat, no matter how much was placed in its cage, left to rot. It would more often eat the mould in its cage. Eventually, someone decided to stick a plant into its cage. It was during its feeding that the keep was approached by a patrician. Where did you find this? The man cloaked in purple last. It came from an egg found south of Egypt. Beyond that I don't know. The keeper threw in several bay leaves and looked at the man. Its docile, too tame, not good showing, but that tail he looked at the developing spines on the beast's flank. It could kill a man. The nobleman rubbed his chin. My son's been asking for a pet, but he reacts poorly to hounds. He sneezes as if possessed when he's around them. He looked at the keeper. I'll give you two thousand asari for the creature. Two thousand five hundred. The keeper frowned. It's one of a kind. It looks sick. Two thousand one hundred. Two thousand four hundred. Two thousand alone is more than this menagerie makes in a month. But the patrician sighed. Two thousand two fifty. He extended his hand. The keeper chewed on his lip and shook his hand. Five days later the lizard, for nothing else could be used to describe it, was delivered to the patrician's villa up the coast from the menagerie. It had a collar that cut into its neck which was quickly removed once the man from the circus had left the villa. Max, the patrician called to his son, there's something out here for you. Out of the house a young, sickly-looking boy emerged. He approached the lizard, putting his hand out warily. Does it bite? He planted plants. His father smiled. The boy stood to the beast's side, petting its smooth skin. The small head on its long neck turned to watch him showing some sign of comfort. The boy did not mean the lizard harm, at the very least. Should I name him or her? Max his father admitted, it's hard to tell whether a lizard is male or female. Max chewed a name over in his head. I think I'm going to call her 296CE. Aegeus, Max's million called to his pet from the garden. Aegeus, dinnertime! The beast, named for ancient shield after the dozens of plates on its back, loped over to her master. She bowed her head and let Max bridle her before flexing those plates down to let him on to her back. We're going into town today, girl! He smiled. Bella tricks doesn't believe you exist. I'm going to prove her otherwise. He tugged on her reins and directed her through the garden, letting her stop to graze on some of the plants. She had an affinity for the Bella Donham, the garden, though he feared that too much of it would make her sick. Soon they roamed through the house, through the front of the villa, and down into the town. Aegeus was a local curiosity, especially considering her size. The tallest man in all of Rome was unable to touch the tops of her plates. She had stopped growing, and with her, any interest the common folk had. Bella tricks was no common woman, however. She was skeptical, scoffed at the idea that a lizard of this size could exist. She scoffed one last time upon seeing Max riding it across the forum, though this was a scoff of surprise, one that was caught by a mug of wine. It spilled over her robes, and she beamed three, one, three, C. Bella tricks hugged her husband as he came up the steps to her villa. I heard about Turin, she swallowed. I'm sorry. It doesn't matter. Little Max Millian smiled at her. Constantine faces the best soldiers in Rome. Max Interess will rout him soon. They say there's trouble brewing around, she's read him. Bella tricks shook her head. I shouldn't talk of war with you. The artists are coming tomorrow. Do start the mosaics, Max Millian blinked. What took so long? I told them to come only after you had returned. She looked at the top of the stairs leading to the villa where Agius, his lifelong friend, stood. I wanted to make sure they'd get her looking just right. Max shook his head and started up the stairs, waving at his friend. She bellowed down at him in greeting, a sound that carried across all of Sicilia, three, two, seven, C. Plato, Max Millian stands over his mosaic-covered floor, looking down at the image of himself, his wife, and Agius. A section of the mosaics had been dug out to betray their child at his mother's side. His mother would not be joining them. He left the artist to his work and went outside to Agius. Max had gotten old enough that he could no longer climb on her back, but his son walked among her plates and toyed with her spike as readily as he did at that young age. Paulus, Max laughed at his son, be careful with her. You'll fall and crack your arm or worse. I'll be fine, father," Paulus gave Agius a pat down her back. The lizard rumbled. She's a good girl, three, four, zero, C. Agius watched what was once her friend be carried from his bed. She could smell the death on him, but he was not gone, not yet. She could not fit into his room, so Max was brought out to her. In all this time, Agius had barely aged, or so it felt, somewhere in its mind it knew it was going to die. Part of it wanted to do so, to join her friend, but at the same time she felt hands on her flank, one from his son, one from his son's mate, and one from their child. Max Millian, the old man, caressed Agius' face one last time. She felt him fade away and bed-out. The youngest child hugged her flank, trying to comfort this great beast. She continued to live for them, three, nine, six, C. She gave endless rides to the children and their children. She outlived several emperors and four generations of Max Millian's family. Eventually, ancient though she was, everything has to die. She lived for over a century before, one day in the garden, she collapsed with a thunderous thud, and lay still. It took four days and a dozen horses to haul her to the tomb of Max Millian's family. Long ago he had said that he wanted his friend to be buried with him when the time came. Decades ago it was a joke that he loved Elizabeth more than his wife. Certainly the mosaic in his house showed Agius far more prominently than any other member of his family. He was laid to rest. Years later a landslide would bury the villa and all the mosaics within. Centuries after that, men would scratch their heads at the sight of Agius' form, immortalized in tile. Item description. A Roman mosaic assembled in the fourth century CE depicting a creature resembling a stegosaurus. But it's anachronism, it is not otherwise anomalous. Date of recovery, redacted. Location of recovery. Villa Romana di Scasala, Sicily, Italy. Current status, in display at site 77's Historical Anomalies wing.