Creticus - The Eagles Approach
The First Two Chapters
Prologue
Aptera, Crete. 69 B.C.
Agamedes was sweating. Even though Helios was still to rise above the horizon his bread ovens provided enough heat to rival that of the midday sun. Wiping his face with a rag he turned his back on the ovens and looked out over the bay and the arrow headed shaped mountains of Akrotiri. A soft orange glow was spreading from the Eastern seas to the tips of the Lefka Ori in the South. These ‘White Mountains’ were starkly silhouetted against the brightening sky as the light gained strength. Agamedes ran his eyes along the dark peaks streaked with limestone thinking back to the snow that had still been present even in June, just two months previous. The limestone was the only white left on these high peaks now. A reminder by the gods of the winters to come and the treasure of the life giving water that poured from the natural springs.
His dark brown eyes detected movement in his peripheral vision and he looked out to sea. At this time the fishing boats should be returning and he looked for the flag bearing the blue and white star that distinguished the ‘Paios’, his brother Eliadas’ vessel. Except these ships were not fishermen returning with their catch. They were not even Cretan vessels.
The huge white and red sails were being taken away and even as they were rolled up he saw the oars come out of the side of these huge ships. In perfect synchronisation they began to beat the water and power their way through the waters of Souda bay. The shields along the side of the ship protecting the three layers of oarsmen, in the same colours of the sails, and the men on board with their javelins and short swords helped Agamedes to understand the nature of their business.
Warriors!
Roman warriors!
Forgetting his bread, now turning from brown to black in the oven, Agamedes raced to the city square shouting the alarm as he went.
One
Rome. 5 years previous. 74 B.C.
‘These damned pirates are laughing at us; we must be decisive and strike before they threaten Rome herself.’
Praetor Quintus Caecilius Metellus was addressing the senate and specially invited businessmen of Rome. He was seven months into his year long tenure as praetor and it had been a busy year. The Republic had faced many challenges recently and it seemed they were all coming to the conclusion whilst he was praetor. King Mithridates was still evading capture and actively pursuing war against Rome, rumours of a slave uprising in Sparta were rife, General Sertorius was reported to be amassing wealth and armies in Hispania whilst under Rome’s orders and these damned pirates were holding the Mediterranean to ransom. He looked around the assembly making eye contact with certain friends and with men who had much to lose by the continuing blocks to sea traffic by the Cretan and Pontus pirates. He spied his cousins friend, Cicero, sitting next to Isauricus and Lucullus, both mighty men with a thirst for a battle. He directed his next sentences at them in order to gain their approval.
‘An army should be raised and sent to Crete to flush these Cilix bastards from their hiding places. The blockade of our ports and the raids on our grain supply are threatening the very heart of Rome. Lasthenes of Crete should be brought to account for his actions and both he and Mithradates of Pontus should hang for their piracy.’
A raucous cheer sounded around the assembly. Metellus allowed this to continue for a few seconds before raising his hand for silence. He deliberately dropped his voice to deliver his next words,
‘Gaius Julius Caesar please stand.’
A young, hawkish looking man stood up.
‘Gentlemen, as you know Caesar was kidnapped by pirates whilst travelling the Aegean on a mission to form a treaty with Nicomedes of Bithynia. On his return from this meeting his ship was attacked and he was enslaved by allies of Mithradites. Only by a ransom of fifty talents of silver was he released and managed to return safely to Rome. His mission was a success, we can now rely on Nicomedes to help us when the time arises because of young Caesar.’
A round of applause makes the young man blush and causes Metellus to pause. When the assembly has quietened Metellus continues,
‘There is more that you may not know. This young man, the son of his namesake, the honourable Gaius Julius Caesar, may he rest with the gods, returned to the pirates lair with a young general and a small raiding party. This band of pirates will cause havoc no more. Their heads as we speak adorn the Western gates of Rome to warn our enemies that we will not be merciful, we will not be cowed, we will not be threatened and we will see all of their heads on a pole before my term as Praetor is finished.’
Metellus has to wait even longer for the noise in the assembly to die down and Caesar sits down amongst the backslaps and handshakes that come his way.
‘I propose we put the pirates to the sword. It is certain we need a warrior to finish this odious business. How can we forget how Ostia was attacked, when our own women and children were taken and some say we have lived in fear. We all remember when the late Marcus Antonius Orators beloved daughter, Antonia, was taken by Mithradates and his clan from their villa in the once safe township. Once again only by payment of a disdainful ransom was she able to be returned back to Italy and the safety of the republic. Antonia’s brother and Marcus’ first born son, Marcus Antonius, has vowed to avenge her loss and restore honour to his family. Marcus was the young general who exacted revenge with Caesar. He will take Crete for Rome and with the backing of the senate will begin an effective suppression of piracy in the waters of the Mediterranean.’
The cheers went on for even longer as the assembly was caught up in the passion of the speech. Marcus Antonius although untested in full scale combat and just seventeen years old, was the son of a great hero of Rome. His father had seen combat throughout the eastern Mediterranean and had personally sent many a pirate and enemy of Rome to meet their gods at the end of his sword. There was no doubt in the minds of many Romans that Marcus Antonius would be able to rid Italy and the republic of these dangerous parasites. His father had paid many bribes to get his son into a position of power in the army and had even managed to arrange for the business populace of Rome to decree to him the honour of the Imperium Maius. This special authority gave Marcus Antonius the divine right to overpower provincial governors and utilise their resources for his and Rome’s own needs. He had already amassed a small fleet and hundreds of men using this decree. These were to be used to patrol the waters around Italy and destroy any enemies of Rome they encountered. Marcus was due to leave with his new naval command within the week.
Metellus turned back to the senate floor.
‘I propose that the senate allows Antonius to continue his mission against the Cretans, the Pontus and those Cilux whore sucking shits without prejudice. We should allow him to build his army and navy to defeat these scum with the senates full power behind him. I put forward to you all here present that Marcus Antonius be fortuitous enough to be given the title of Praetor and the senatorial decree of ‘Imperium Infinitum’.
A few older statesmen looked at each other with quiet astonishment at this statement. Imperium Infinitum meant extending Roman territorial limits indefinitely to the person holding such power. In effect it meant that Marcus Antonius would hold the power of the emperor wherever he made landfall.
Metellus continued, ‘I declare that these powers invested by the senate shall only be in authority until the fall of Crete and Lasthenes. After this point Marcus Antonius shall be declared governor of Crete and given the name Creticus when his Imperium Infintum shall cease. He and his family shall be rewarded accordingly. There are always vacancies within the senate for family members of valiant Roman heroes. On his return to Rome he will be issued with that triumph for his deeds.’
A voice rang out from the crowd of senatorial masses.
‘Ho Metellus my dear mercenary!’
Looking around the senate Metellus soon honed in on the heckler.
Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus!
With his hackles rising as for a duel to the death, Metellus answered carefully,
‘Yes General Pompey. I had not realised your journey to Hispania had been completed so quickly. To what does the senate owe the pleasure to point its ears towards your ready source of commentary?’
There was a low chuckle from various places around the forum. It was no surprise to many that Pompey and Metellus were not the best of friends. Pompey’s hail to Metellus as mercenary harked back to how his family name was given to his grandfather for deeds accomplished on the back of Roman gold. General Pompey should have been in Hispania battling the uprising there and gaining information on General Sertorius. For Pompey to be in Rome meant there must be some major development in the Hispanic war. Many leaned forward to see how this battle of words would play out.
‘Consuls, Senators, Praetors and countrymen, although I am here in Rome for a short time between battles against our Hispanic friends I ask to be given your time and patience to say a few words on this weighty matter. Marcus Antonius, since the untimely demise of his father, has been like a brother to me. I have watched him grow and it is only because of his youth he did not sail with me two years ago to vanquish our enemies in the West. Indeed I was to ask that the young warrior be allowed to return with me and share in the victories to come. But, alas he has already assigned himself to a noble cause where honour and triumph will surely await him.
Metellus, I put forward to the house that Marcus Antonius be granted the praetorship and the decree that you seek. I also ask that the senate proposes the name Creticus for his future deeds that are still to pass. With his pedigree he shall subjugate the people of Crete and vanquish the pirates with the same troubles that we may conquer an ant colony.’
Pompey raised his arms in supplication towards the senate,
‘Shall all those here present say yea to allow it to be so?’
The forum erupted.
Two
Marcus Antonius at this point was engrossed in the gyrations of the slave girl in front of him. She was older than the whores he usually pursued but her charms and perfect body had persuaded him to lust after her. When she moved across the taverna to his table all heads followed her. There was an intensity to her that aroused his curiosity as well as his groin. Marcus was immediately trapped by her. He paid the taverna owner for a private room there and then. Having already been pleasured once by the whore he now wanted more. Maybe this time he would not hold back so much with his slaps and playful punches.
As he thought of what he would do to her next she moved once again towards him. Her lithe, oiled, naked dark flesh rippled and moved with the offerings and promises of the pleasures to come once again. Pleasures that would cost just a few coins and be remembered for the many months he was due to be away from Rome. Adjusting his tunic to ease the pressure on certain parts of his anatomy Marcus beckoned the girl closer.
‘How would you like to see the world with me girl? I can take you away from this shit hole you are in and show you how to live the life of a real woman of Rome. I have the power to do it. All I need is for you to agree and show me what you can do. What do you say woman? Would you be Marcus Antonius concubine?’
Stretching out an inquisitive hand he began to caress the inner thigh of the slave girl. Reaching higher he felt the soft hair that hinted at greater pleasures. First one finger, then two parted the soft folds of her sex. As he moved his hand rhythmically he looked at the face before him. Instead of being in a state of pleasure her gaze upon Marcus was disconcerting. He inserted another finger, then another until he was on the verge of placing his whole hand inside the girl. Her face now showed a grimace of pain as he attempted to push his now almost clenched fist into her sex. On seeing her expression Marcus smiled and pressed his hand upwards more firmly.
The hand that dug into his shoulder felt like the talons of the eagle. The vice like grip numbed his arm and he felt himself being pulled backwards and sideways across the table. Grasping for his dagger Marcus heard, rather than felt the blow across his side. The dull thud reverberated through his body and both arms were now numb. The dagger clattered noisily onto the floor. Spun around to face his attacker he looked up into a face scarred by fire and old battles. A blade had split the wide face from forehead to left cheekbone at some point in the past and the jagged scar twitched uneasily in the dingy lamp light that sputtered in the corner of the room. The burnt tissue on the right side of the demons face had created ridges and holes that occasionally still wept now, even though the scars were many years old. One eye was clouded and the other burned hatred so fiercely that Marcus felt his bladder release as fear overtook any self control he may have had.
The scarred warrior turned to the girl,
‘You! Piss off. I have certain things I wish to discuss with this…this gentleman.’
He threw a bronze coin onto the table which was hastily grabbed.
‘If you are going to kill him, do it slowly. He deserves it.’
With those parting words she left quickly. Her dark skinned hands grabbing her short dress in a bundle and pulling her ripped undergarments over her naked body as she went.
He turned his attention back to Marcus. His one good eye bored into the young Roman officer.
‘You are a loathsome piece of dung. You force the men to work through the night with no shore leave before they travel to their possible deaths, and you, YOU, spend the night here with a whore while your wife and children wait at home wondering where you are. You fucking disgust me. Clean yourself up you snivelling coward before someone recognises you. I don’t want to be seen to be associating with a bed wetting infant even if the great Praetor Metellus himself has ordered it.’
The man holding Marcus in his vice like grip was Cyriacus Modestus, a veteran Roman soldier of many battles. His scars were worn with a pride that men both feared and admired in equal terms. If only the same was true with the opposite sex. His wife and child had been kidnapped by Cretan pirates many years before. They had never been returned as he had no money for ransom and he was too proud to accept the charity of others, mainly Metellus, when it had been offered. His only wish was that his young family had died quickly and bravely. No other woman in his life could see past the scars unless enough silver had been spilled before her. Cyriacus picked up the wine jug from the table and threw the remains of the contents against Marcus’ crotch.
‘That will hide both our embarrassments until you can change into something more decent. What are you going to be like when you are tested on the battlefield?’
He turned to leave without checking if Marcus was following. He was muttering under his breath as he walked away,
‘A fucking wet nurse. Why me? I could be on my farm with my pension enjoying the warm evenings and the comfort of a woman. Any woman! Instead I am here with this idiot.’
He paused in the doorway,
‘Hurry up. Your presence is required by the senate.’
As Marcus rushed to catch up with his mentor and bodyguard he was offered a few more words of advice.
‘Don’t forget your dagger you little prick.’
Aptera, Crete. 69 B.C.
Agamedes was sweating. Even though Helios was still to rise above the horizon his bread ovens provided enough heat to rival that of the midday sun. Wiping his face with a rag he turned his back on the ovens and looked out over the bay and the arrow headed shaped mountains of Akrotiri. A soft orange glow was spreading from the Eastern seas to the tips of the Lefka Ori in the South. These ‘White Mountains’ were starkly silhouetted against the brightening sky as the light gained strength. Agamedes ran his eyes along the dark peaks streaked with limestone thinking back to the snow that had still been present even in June, just two months previous. The limestone was the only white left on these high peaks now. A reminder by the gods of the winters to come and the treasure of the life giving water that poured from the natural springs.
His dark brown eyes detected movement in his peripheral vision and he looked out to sea. At this time the fishing boats should be returning and he looked for the flag bearing the blue and white star that distinguished the ‘Paios’, his brother Eliadas’ vessel. Except these ships were not fishermen returning with their catch. They were not even Cretan vessels.
The huge white and red sails were being taken away and even as they were rolled up he saw the oars come out of the side of these huge ships. In perfect synchronisation they began to beat the water and power their way through the waters of Souda bay. The shields along the side of the ship protecting the three layers of oarsmen, in the same colours of the sails, and the men on board with their javelins and short swords helped Agamedes to understand the nature of their business.
Warriors!
Roman warriors!
Forgetting his bread, now turning from brown to black in the oven, Agamedes raced to the city square shouting the alarm as he went.
One
Rome. 5 years previous. 74 B.C.
‘These damned pirates are laughing at us; we must be decisive and strike before they threaten Rome herself.’
Praetor Quintus Caecilius Metellus was addressing the senate and specially invited businessmen of Rome. He was seven months into his year long tenure as praetor and it had been a busy year. The Republic had faced many challenges recently and it seemed they were all coming to the conclusion whilst he was praetor. King Mithridates was still evading capture and actively pursuing war against Rome, rumours of a slave uprising in Sparta were rife, General Sertorius was reported to be amassing wealth and armies in Hispania whilst under Rome’s orders and these damned pirates were holding the Mediterranean to ransom. He looked around the assembly making eye contact with certain friends and with men who had much to lose by the continuing blocks to sea traffic by the Cretan and Pontus pirates. He spied his cousins friend, Cicero, sitting next to Isauricus and Lucullus, both mighty men with a thirst for a battle. He directed his next sentences at them in order to gain their approval.
‘An army should be raised and sent to Crete to flush these Cilix bastards from their hiding places. The blockade of our ports and the raids on our grain supply are threatening the very heart of Rome. Lasthenes of Crete should be brought to account for his actions and both he and Mithradates of Pontus should hang for their piracy.’
A raucous cheer sounded around the assembly. Metellus allowed this to continue for a few seconds before raising his hand for silence. He deliberately dropped his voice to deliver his next words,
‘Gaius Julius Caesar please stand.’
A young, hawkish looking man stood up.
‘Gentlemen, as you know Caesar was kidnapped by pirates whilst travelling the Aegean on a mission to form a treaty with Nicomedes of Bithynia. On his return from this meeting his ship was attacked and he was enslaved by allies of Mithradites. Only by a ransom of fifty talents of silver was he released and managed to return safely to Rome. His mission was a success, we can now rely on Nicomedes to help us when the time arises because of young Caesar.’
A round of applause makes the young man blush and causes Metellus to pause. When the assembly has quietened Metellus continues,
‘There is more that you may not know. This young man, the son of his namesake, the honourable Gaius Julius Caesar, may he rest with the gods, returned to the pirates lair with a young general and a small raiding party. This band of pirates will cause havoc no more. Their heads as we speak adorn the Western gates of Rome to warn our enemies that we will not be merciful, we will not be cowed, we will not be threatened and we will see all of their heads on a pole before my term as Praetor is finished.’
Metellus has to wait even longer for the noise in the assembly to die down and Caesar sits down amongst the backslaps and handshakes that come his way.
‘I propose we put the pirates to the sword. It is certain we need a warrior to finish this odious business. How can we forget how Ostia was attacked, when our own women and children were taken and some say we have lived in fear. We all remember when the late Marcus Antonius Orators beloved daughter, Antonia, was taken by Mithradates and his clan from their villa in the once safe township. Once again only by payment of a disdainful ransom was she able to be returned back to Italy and the safety of the republic. Antonia’s brother and Marcus’ first born son, Marcus Antonius, has vowed to avenge her loss and restore honour to his family. Marcus was the young general who exacted revenge with Caesar. He will take Crete for Rome and with the backing of the senate will begin an effective suppression of piracy in the waters of the Mediterranean.’
The cheers went on for even longer as the assembly was caught up in the passion of the speech. Marcus Antonius although untested in full scale combat and just seventeen years old, was the son of a great hero of Rome. His father had seen combat throughout the eastern Mediterranean and had personally sent many a pirate and enemy of Rome to meet their gods at the end of his sword. There was no doubt in the minds of many Romans that Marcus Antonius would be able to rid Italy and the republic of these dangerous parasites. His father had paid many bribes to get his son into a position of power in the army and had even managed to arrange for the business populace of Rome to decree to him the honour of the Imperium Maius. This special authority gave Marcus Antonius the divine right to overpower provincial governors and utilise their resources for his and Rome’s own needs. He had already amassed a small fleet and hundreds of men using this decree. These were to be used to patrol the waters around Italy and destroy any enemies of Rome they encountered. Marcus was due to leave with his new naval command within the week.
Metellus turned back to the senate floor.
‘I propose that the senate allows Antonius to continue his mission against the Cretans, the Pontus and those Cilux whore sucking shits without prejudice. We should allow him to build his army and navy to defeat these scum with the senates full power behind him. I put forward to you all here present that Marcus Antonius be fortuitous enough to be given the title of Praetor and the senatorial decree of ‘Imperium Infinitum’.
A few older statesmen looked at each other with quiet astonishment at this statement. Imperium Infinitum meant extending Roman territorial limits indefinitely to the person holding such power. In effect it meant that Marcus Antonius would hold the power of the emperor wherever he made landfall.
Metellus continued, ‘I declare that these powers invested by the senate shall only be in authority until the fall of Crete and Lasthenes. After this point Marcus Antonius shall be declared governor of Crete and given the name Creticus when his Imperium Infintum shall cease. He and his family shall be rewarded accordingly. There are always vacancies within the senate for family members of valiant Roman heroes. On his return to Rome he will be issued with that triumph for his deeds.’
A voice rang out from the crowd of senatorial masses.
‘Ho Metellus my dear mercenary!’
Looking around the senate Metellus soon honed in on the heckler.
Gnaeus Pompeius Magnus!
With his hackles rising as for a duel to the death, Metellus answered carefully,
‘Yes General Pompey. I had not realised your journey to Hispania had been completed so quickly. To what does the senate owe the pleasure to point its ears towards your ready source of commentary?’
There was a low chuckle from various places around the forum. It was no surprise to many that Pompey and Metellus were not the best of friends. Pompey’s hail to Metellus as mercenary harked back to how his family name was given to his grandfather for deeds accomplished on the back of Roman gold. General Pompey should have been in Hispania battling the uprising there and gaining information on General Sertorius. For Pompey to be in Rome meant there must be some major development in the Hispanic war. Many leaned forward to see how this battle of words would play out.
‘Consuls, Senators, Praetors and countrymen, although I am here in Rome for a short time between battles against our Hispanic friends I ask to be given your time and patience to say a few words on this weighty matter. Marcus Antonius, since the untimely demise of his father, has been like a brother to me. I have watched him grow and it is only because of his youth he did not sail with me two years ago to vanquish our enemies in the West. Indeed I was to ask that the young warrior be allowed to return with me and share in the victories to come. But, alas he has already assigned himself to a noble cause where honour and triumph will surely await him.
Metellus, I put forward to the house that Marcus Antonius be granted the praetorship and the decree that you seek. I also ask that the senate proposes the name Creticus for his future deeds that are still to pass. With his pedigree he shall subjugate the people of Crete and vanquish the pirates with the same troubles that we may conquer an ant colony.’
Pompey raised his arms in supplication towards the senate,
‘Shall all those here present say yea to allow it to be so?’
The forum erupted.
Two
Marcus Antonius at this point was engrossed in the gyrations of the slave girl in front of him. She was older than the whores he usually pursued but her charms and perfect body had persuaded him to lust after her. When she moved across the taverna to his table all heads followed her. There was an intensity to her that aroused his curiosity as well as his groin. Marcus was immediately trapped by her. He paid the taverna owner for a private room there and then. Having already been pleasured once by the whore he now wanted more. Maybe this time he would not hold back so much with his slaps and playful punches.
As he thought of what he would do to her next she moved once again towards him. Her lithe, oiled, naked dark flesh rippled and moved with the offerings and promises of the pleasures to come once again. Pleasures that would cost just a few coins and be remembered for the many months he was due to be away from Rome. Adjusting his tunic to ease the pressure on certain parts of his anatomy Marcus beckoned the girl closer.
‘How would you like to see the world with me girl? I can take you away from this shit hole you are in and show you how to live the life of a real woman of Rome. I have the power to do it. All I need is for you to agree and show me what you can do. What do you say woman? Would you be Marcus Antonius concubine?’
Stretching out an inquisitive hand he began to caress the inner thigh of the slave girl. Reaching higher he felt the soft hair that hinted at greater pleasures. First one finger, then two parted the soft folds of her sex. As he moved his hand rhythmically he looked at the face before him. Instead of being in a state of pleasure her gaze upon Marcus was disconcerting. He inserted another finger, then another until he was on the verge of placing his whole hand inside the girl. Her face now showed a grimace of pain as he attempted to push his now almost clenched fist into her sex. On seeing her expression Marcus smiled and pressed his hand upwards more firmly.
The hand that dug into his shoulder felt like the talons of the eagle. The vice like grip numbed his arm and he felt himself being pulled backwards and sideways across the table. Grasping for his dagger Marcus heard, rather than felt the blow across his side. The dull thud reverberated through his body and both arms were now numb. The dagger clattered noisily onto the floor. Spun around to face his attacker he looked up into a face scarred by fire and old battles. A blade had split the wide face from forehead to left cheekbone at some point in the past and the jagged scar twitched uneasily in the dingy lamp light that sputtered in the corner of the room. The burnt tissue on the right side of the demons face had created ridges and holes that occasionally still wept now, even though the scars were many years old. One eye was clouded and the other burned hatred so fiercely that Marcus felt his bladder release as fear overtook any self control he may have had.
The scarred warrior turned to the girl,
‘You! Piss off. I have certain things I wish to discuss with this…this gentleman.’
He threw a bronze coin onto the table which was hastily grabbed.
‘If you are going to kill him, do it slowly. He deserves it.’
With those parting words she left quickly. Her dark skinned hands grabbing her short dress in a bundle and pulling her ripped undergarments over her naked body as she went.
He turned his attention back to Marcus. His one good eye bored into the young Roman officer.
‘You are a loathsome piece of dung. You force the men to work through the night with no shore leave before they travel to their possible deaths, and you, YOU, spend the night here with a whore while your wife and children wait at home wondering where you are. You fucking disgust me. Clean yourself up you snivelling coward before someone recognises you. I don’t want to be seen to be associating with a bed wetting infant even if the great Praetor Metellus himself has ordered it.’
The man holding Marcus in his vice like grip was Cyriacus Modestus, a veteran Roman soldier of many battles. His scars were worn with a pride that men both feared and admired in equal terms. If only the same was true with the opposite sex. His wife and child had been kidnapped by Cretan pirates many years before. They had never been returned as he had no money for ransom and he was too proud to accept the charity of others, mainly Metellus, when it had been offered. His only wish was that his young family had died quickly and bravely. No other woman in his life could see past the scars unless enough silver had been spilled before her. Cyriacus picked up the wine jug from the table and threw the remains of the contents against Marcus’ crotch.
‘That will hide both our embarrassments until you can change into something more decent. What are you going to be like when you are tested on the battlefield?’
He turned to leave without checking if Marcus was following. He was muttering under his breath as he walked away,
‘A fucking wet nurse. Why me? I could be on my farm with my pension enjoying the warm evenings and the comfort of a woman. Any woman! Instead I am here with this idiot.’
He paused in the doorway,
‘Hurry up. Your presence is required by the senate.’
As Marcus rushed to catch up with his mentor and bodyguard he was offered a few more words of advice.
‘Don’t forget your dagger you little prick.’
I hope you have enjoyed this small excerpt of Creticus. If you wish to leave a comment then it would be very much appreciated. Thank you.