Rubicon

by Linda Coleman

  The Mists of Time

  RUBICON

  Linda Coleman

  Copyright © 2012 Linda Coleman

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  CONTENTS

  Prologue - January 49 B.C.

  Chapter 1 - Present Day

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7 - 49 B.C.

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10 - Present Day

  Chapter 11 - 49 B.C.

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29 - Present Day

  Chapter 30

  Authors Note: The Mists of Time: Rubicon

  For James Purefoy

  My inspiration

  Prologue

  January 49 B.C.

  Julius Caesar stood on the banks of the river Rubicon, considering his options. He would soon have to make the most important decision of his life and he was, uncharacteristically, unsure what to do. As he walked along the banks, he said a silent prayer to the gods for guidance.

  The Senate in Rome had given him an ultimatum: either he lay down his command of the province of Gaul and agree to return to Rome to answer the ridiculous charges made against him, or be declared an enemy of the state. If he chose the former it would mean the end of his career, but choosing the latter could lead to his death. It was an outrage. He was Caesar, tamer of all Gaul. The riches he had sent home to Rome had lined the Senate’s pockets for years. He had given everything for them and in return they accused him of treachery. What more did he have to do to make them realise his worth and give him the reward he deserved? Ungrateful, pompous asses! His only defence would be to cross the Rubicon and force them to see reason. But were he to do this, he would effectively be declaring war on the Republic and unleashing his armies against his own people; how would history judge him for that action?

  Some of Caesar’s most trusted allies were in Rome lobbying on his behalf. One of them, the fearless Mark Antony, had been tasked with offering a compromise to the Senate’s ultimatum. Caesar knew Antony’s proposal would fall on deaf ears because the fools in the Senate had already made their decision and would not be swayed from it. His chances for a peaceful resolution were dwindling by the hour: the die had been cast and all he could to do was wait to see how and where it would land.

  As Caesar stared across the river, he noticed an unusual mist forming on the water. Hazy wisps danced in front of him, like ghostly fingers beckoning him forward. It felt as if the river was calling to him, telling him to seize his chance and march on. A part of him wanted to listen to the river’s call, but his men had already done enough. To follow him any further would seal their fates as well as his. He could ask no more of them. He had to turn back and lay down his command. That was the logical option, but still the mist danced enticingly. It tempted him to believe he could succeed, if only he went forward.

  Caesar closed his eyes and shook himself. He was being ridiculous; he did not believe in such omens. The river was not speaking to him; how could it be? He opened his eyes again searching for the mist, but it had vanished as quickly as it had first appeared. He wondered if it had all been in his imagination as he turned and strode back towards camp. Still, he had made his decision. He would not cross the Rubicon and start a war. To do so would be the act of a desperate and irrational man.

  And if Mercury, winged herald of the gods, expected him to follow a different path, then he would have to send a more tangible messenger than a few wisps of tantalising mist.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  Melissa Gordon possessed priceless pearls of wisdom that she shared with anyone who sought her advice: life is never fair; even when things appear to be going well they have a habit of turning bad; opportunities that look too good to be true usually turn out to be just that; and, finally, never trust anyone completely, because that is when they are most likely to stab you in the back! They were the only certainties in life as far as she was concerned, apart from dying, of course, but she had no intention of doing that just yet.

  Melissa had not begun life as a pessimist. She had started out as every other young person had − looking forward to the future, optimistic about her prospects and believing she would do great things. That was all a long time ago. That was before she had met Anthony Marcus. And now, almost eight years later, here she was, sitting outside the Devonshire Arms waiting for him to show up.

  She was angry with herself for ever agreeing to this meeting, but he had talked her into it. A chance to make up for the past was what he said. Fat chance of that, she thought as she sipped on her second glass of wine, all the while staring across the small village green that spread out in front of her. It was an unusually warm afternoon for late April and she had decided to sit outside to make the most of the sun. From her table close to the door she also had an excellent view of the green and the roads surrounding it, from the church in the far corner on her left to the village shop on the right hand side. She watched each car as it approached up the gently-sloping main road that separated the green from the shop, her anxiety rising and then falling as it passed on by. She did not want Anthony’s arrival to come as a surprise to her. She wanted to see him coming. She needed to be prepared to meet him after all this time and to be in complete control, mainly to prevent her from slapping him round the face. This was her local and she had no intention of embarrassing herself on home ground. Maybe the wine was not such a good idea, but it was too late now. She tapped her nails on her teeth as her nerves began to get the better of her. Maybe she should order a sandwich?

  The sound of a wooden chair being scraped across the flagstones to her left made her turn sharply to look in that direction, but it was only the old man she had watched a few minutes earlier crossing the green from the shop. Sitting down to enjoy a midday pint, he nodded to Melissa as he lit a cigarette and then settled back in his chair to read his newspaper.

  Melissa glanced at her watch. Anthony was already over an hour late. Fifteen more minutes, she decided, and then she would go. Timekeeping had never been one of his strong points, but this was a new low even for him. It was not possible he had missed the place. It was the largest building on the green, except for the church. “I remember the one,” he had said on the phone. “It’s the grey building with the sandstone columns on either side of the door. I can’t miss it.”

  As fewer cars came up the road, her concentration began to drift. She gazed at the tiny ferns that had seeded themselves into the cracks in the grey stone wall that marked the border of the pub garden. She became mesmerised by the delicacy of the ferns’ fronds as they clung tightly to the stones beneath. While she was
looking intently at the plants, the alcohol she had consumed began to numb her anxieties and her mind began to wander over the past.

  Melissa had first met Anthony at university. They had both enrolled on the same archaeology course. She had paid him little attention to begin with. He was not really her type, or to be more precise, he was not the type of man who ever paid her any attention. Melissa had always tried hard not to be noticed; in fact, she was a loner. Her hair had been long and dark, lacking shape or definition, and had just hung around her face and shoulders, then down to her waist. Her best features were her large, dark-brown eyes, reminiscent of those of a deer, which were set into a pale, oval face. These she had kept hidden behind the most unattractive, thick-rimmed glasses imaginable. She was skinny, quiet and a deliberately dowdy dresser, usually wearing jeans and a jumper that was at least two sizes too big for her. She made every attempt to appear quite plain, all to hide the fact that she was painfully shy. What she lacked in looks, though, she more than made up for in brains. Blessed with a near-photographic memory, study came easily to her. Her books were the only friends she needed and, while others were out having fun, she would stick to the library reading anything and everything she could. She could speak three languages fluently in addition to her native English, and had an outstanding knowledge of Latin, which was particularly advantageous for her chosen career. Melissa was easily the top student in every class and great things were expected of her academically.

  Anthony, on the other hand, excelled at getting noticed. He was not the tallest man, but his good looks more than made up for it, with his olive skin, dark hair and deep, dark-brown, nearly black, eyes. He enjoyed many sports, which meant he was very fit. In fact, he worked very hard to keep his muscular physique perfectly toned: apparently it went down well with ‘the ladies’. Loud, brash and opinionated, he was always at the centre of whatever was going on and that usually meant trouble. He was not the student with the best results, but that was more to do with a lack of application than a lack of intelligence.

  Anthony’s Achilles heel was that he loved life: he was the first to buy a round at the bar even when strapped for cash and was always the last to leave it, often only with help from friends. When it came to women, he had the ambition to love every attractive one he met, as frequently as he could. More often than not, every last one of them loved him back for as long as they could hold his interest. It was more than just looks or physique that attracted so many people to him; it was his charm, his charisma, his confidence − just about everything, in fact. People swarmed round him like bees to honey. Whatever ‘it’ was that he had, he had ‘it’ in spades and the few who were not in the Anthony Marcus fan club were those who were either jealous of his popularity, or those who were so ordinary that they escaped the notice of most people − people just like Melissa.

  And yet Anthony had noticed her, though admittedly not at first. It had all started as a bet. He had been getting drunk with friends one evening near the end of the first semester and the conversation had got round to the girls on their courses. Anthony had boasted that he could sleep with any one of them – just give him a name. Half the girls on campus were vying for his attentions, including those in his classes. Given that he had never failed to get any girl he wanted, he was fairly certain of his success. What he had failed to imagine was that anyone would have suggested Melissa. He had not even realised there was a girl called Melissa on his course, but he agreed anyway. In the cold, hard, light of day recognition dawned on him: it had to be the plain, geeky girl who was always getting top grades, but whom no one actually knew. At first, the mere thought of spending any time with her appalled him: he was the campus stud, she the queen nerd. They could not be more different, but a bet was a bet and Anthony had no intention of losing!

  Finding out anything about Melissa from others was impossible. She was never seen in any of the usual hangouts and, as hard as he tried, he found no one who could call themselves her friend. She ignored him in the corridors and positively avoided him on field trips. Anthony was used to getting anything and anyone he wanted with little effort, but the more he tried to impress Melissa, the more she seemed indifferent to him, which both intrigued and annoyed him. This girl was not like the others: she was a challenge and he was always up for one of those. He became obsessed with the idea of taking this aloof girl down a peg or two. He needed to know what made her tick and get under her skin sufficiently to make her give in to him. One thing he did learn quickly was that they both shared the same vicious temper and could be provoked quite easily. This was the only emotion Melissa seemed willing to display in public.

  Anthony knew Melissa always arrived at lectures early to sit at the front in the same seat, so he began arriving earlier to sit in the seat she favoured, forcing her to sit by his side. He tried to engage her in his favourite topics of conversation, but that failed dismally as she seemed to have no opinions on TV, sport, music or alcohol. She never laughed at his jokes, but he continued to crack them anyway. He started to follow her to the library whenever she was heading there, realising this was his way inside her head. He asked her advice on the best books to read and persuaded her to proofread his assignments. He made sure that he was in the library whenever she went there, usually every day.

  It took months for him to get to her, but his dogged determination won through in the end and Melissa began to warm to his advances. She began to sit with him in the cafeteria for lunch and slowly he persuaded her to tell him about her life outside the university. They found they had a lot more in common than they had ever realised. It turned out they were both orphans. Melissa’s parents had died in a car accident when she was seven and she had moved from the city to Long Sutton to be raised by her only living relative − her grandmother. Anthony had no memory of his real parents; his mother had died giving birth to him and he had never known who his father was. He was raised by his godfather, when he was four moving from the city to the Italian countryside, where his godfather had taken a job working on the estate of a widow. He vaguely remembered an aunt he had adored, but she disappeared from his life at around the same time that he and his godfather had moved. Anthony did not know what had happened to her, or why she had lost touch. Anthony and Melissa had reacted differently to the losses they had suffered and, whereas Anthony had rebelled and set about getting into as much trouble as he could, Melissa had become withdrawn and shy. They were as much the same as they were total opposites.

  Melissa brought him back home to meet her grandmother at the end of their first year. He was only supposed to stay for a week before returning to Italy, but he fell in love with the Somerset countryside and stayed all summer. He was a different person away from university and Melissa had been surprised at how loving and patient he could be. They spent hours walking through the countryside and Melissa showed him all her favourite places and hideaways. He just seemed happy for them to be together and it was this new, relaxed Anthony that she allowed to make love to her in the fields beyond her house. After eight months Anthony had won his bet, but he could not have cared less. He was crazy about Melissa and nothing else mattered to him.

  When they returned to university they rented a tiny flat where they remained for the next two years. To begin with, Melissa was unsure how long their relationship would last, fearing that Anthony would go back to his old ways, and to some extent he had. He would still go out with his friends and get drunk far more often than she liked, but the womanising stopped. He only had eyes for Melissa.

  Anthony’s grades were improving under Melissa’s tutelage and she blossomed from his constant attentions. She cut her hair, acquired some more flattering glasses and even started to wear fashionable clothes, most of which she allowed him to choose. He introduced her to rock music, movies and cult TV shows. He even got her to attend a couple of football matches though, in all honesty, she would have preferred not to have gone. Her fears melted away and, over time, she let him in completely. He knew everything about her, what ma
de her laugh or cry, how to make her angry and especially how to persuade her to forgive him after a row. Anthony, on the other hand, always remained a little guarded and she knew there were many secrets in his past he was not prepared to share. That hurt her to begin with, but she chose to ignore it. She had fallen completely and desperately in love with him, though she would never admit it to anyone but herself.

  They both graduated with honours and continued on to the Master’s course, specialising in the Classics. Things started to go wrong when one of their tutors died suddenly, just before the course commenced. He was replaced by Dr Victor Reyes, an unpleasant man in his late fifties, who had spent far too many years in northern Italy for Melissa’s liking. His English was a little hard to follow at times, but his Latin and Ancient Greek were both perfect, as was his knowledge of all things relating to Rome and her Empire. In fact, he was the only person in the entire university whose Latin was better than Melissa’s.

  Melissa did not like the replacement in the slightest. He constantly picked holes in her work, which was a new experience for her, and put her firmly in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons. She became the butt of many jokes from her group. Over time, she found the attention difficult to cope with, and began to withdraw into herself once again. Initially, Anthony did his best to keep her going, but over time even he seemed not to notice, or to care, that she was slipping back into insignificance. He and “Victor” got on amazingly well. They both came from the same region of Italy and seemed to have a lot in common. Anthony could not understand what there was not to like. Yes, he would say, Victor was a hard taskmaster, but surely the subject was supposed to become more difficult, the further you progressed?

  Dr Reyes lavished as much praise on Anthony as he did criticism on Melissa. He was always available to answer any of Anthony’s questions and the two of them often stayed late after lectures, discussing topics that interested them both. Victor Reyes was opening Anthony’s eyes to the possibilities of the future he could have, but seemed determined to make sure Melissa would play no part in it. Anthony looked up to Victor and hung on his every word. Once again Anthony was excelling at everything and this time he was leaving Melissa behind. If she made any comments about Victor, it would start a row. She was accused of not wanting Anthony to do well, and of trying to hold him back. He even told her that she just could not cope with him being better than her at something. The old Anthony was resurfacing and she was fading from his view.