Rubicon

by Linda Coleman

  Melissa shook her head, knowing Caesar’s statement to be incorrect. “He has not. The poison he obtained was not strong enough to kill him. He is sick, but will recover and be forced to throw himself on your mercy.”

  Caesar looked at Antony and cocked his head slightly, as if they were sharing a private joke. “I know, as I had one of my spies deliver it in secret to his physician,” Caesar replied, smiling again as he did so. “Only he and I knew of its limited potency. No one could have informed you. It appears you really do see both present and future events.”

  He raised his hands in a mock gesture of submission and laughed. “Forgive my crude test of your abilities, but I had to be certain you were not receiving intelligence from another source. I could not take up your offer of assistance if it were not so, and that is exactly what I intend to do. You will continue to provide me with information on my future and I will provide you with a home in Rome and an allowance to live on, administered through Mark Antony. You will remain in his care. I understand he has been treating you well and will have no objection in continuing with the arrangement.” Caesar looked up at Antony who merely shrugged his shoulders without comment. Melissa could tell he was less than pleased. He may have been playing the willing host, but he still had another agenda.

  Caesar’s attentions switched to Vitruvius. “What say you, Vitruvius? Will you continue to protect your charges and keep them safe from harm? I will raise your pay by one half if you agree.”

  “Yes sir,” Vitruvius answered without hesitation. It was not such hard work and he would be stupid to refuse more money. It also meant he could remain close to Rebecca, even though he knew she felt nothing for him. She was attracted to Antony, any fool could see that, but Vitruvius did not care. He was falling in love with her a little more every day and would do anything to stay by her side.

  “Thank you, Caesar. I appreciate your kindness towards me and my companion,” Melissa said with relief. She had kept them alive this far and it was about to become a lot easier.

  It was time to offer up more information. “Caesar, you do realise that the delays here have allowed Pompey to retreat further south and have given him a chance of escape?” Melissa ventured.

  Caesar nodded. “I had thought as much, but I have no wish to fight him. I would rather negotiate for a peaceful end to this stupidity. I imagine he has gone to Brundisium as it has the best harbour from which to embark for Greece. I have sent envoys to the town to negotiate his surrender. Tell me − will they will succeed?”

  Melissa shook her head. “Pompey is in Brundisium, as you suspect, but he has gone too far to back down. Men like Cato harass him daily to attack you, yet he is wiser than they are. He knows he cannot engage you and win. He has already evacuated most of his men and now awaits the return of his ships to port to leave with the rest. He intends to regroup in Greece, just as you thought, before launching a counter attack. You are already too late to stop his escape.”

  Caesar sighed. He was genuinely saddened to hear he would have to fight Pompey to resolve the crisis, as he knew only one of them could win and the other would be destroyed. “You say I am too late to stop him, but I say I can still try. We must discuss my next move before I give the orders to pursue Pompey. Vitruvius, take that one back to their quarters. Lissa is perfectly safe here with us. Antony will return her to you in due course.”

  Caesar turned to Antony who began to lay out the planned advance to Melissa, just as history had taught her it had happened. Melissa explained that Pompey’s fleet would be ready to leave as soon as Caesar’s forces arrived at Brundisium, but Caesar knew Pompey would have to wait for the wind to be in his favour. He had to find a way to delay his former colleague from getting his ships out of the harbour long enough to take the town. Melissa suggested Trebonius might have the best solution, though even this was unlikely to work. She gave information that the town was covered in traps designed to prevent Caesar’s advance and he immediately ordered Antony to send out spies to infiltrate the settlement and find a local Caesarean sympathiser to help steer them through.

  As they discussed the battle plans, Antony watched Melissa closely. She was not afraid to speak her mind and appeared to be as good a tactician as Caesar when it came to warfare. He smiled to himself. This woman truly was his equal in intellect, and that only made him want to tame her all the more.

  On arrival at Brundisium, Caesar made camp outside the walls of the city, blocking the main approach to the town. He sent men to the headlands on both shores of the harbour to encircle Pompey’s fleet, which was waiting patiently in the harbour for a favourable wind to carry it safely away before the bombardment began. It was the first real battle Melissa had witnessed, even from a safe distance, and she certainly hoped it would be her last.

  Caesar attacked the gates directly and with such ferocity that it briefly distracted the defenders from the activities of his troops on the headlands, where Trebonius was in charge of an ambitious scheme to build pontoons across the harbour entrance. It had been his idea to blockade the harbour, thus preventing the fleet from leaving its moorings, and, as Melissa informed Caesar, it was their only chance to trap them, albeit an extremely slim one. Trebonius’ men did not have long before Pompey finally understood the danger they represented, at which they immediately came under fire from Pompey’s troops who were intent on burning the floating structures in order to break out.

  Even though they were well away from the fighting, the acrid smell of the burning pontoons was as terrifying as the unnatural orange glow that loomed on the skyline. Rebecca whined constantly about the inconvenience the battle was causing to her sleep, while Vitruvius paced up and down like a caged animal in a zoo. Not being a part of the fighting was driving him mad with frustration and his behaviour added to the tension Melissa was already feeling. This was the first real test of Melissa’s memory of how events were meant to unfold and her anxiety grew by the minute at the thought that she may have given Caesar information that could change the outcome of the battle. They all needed a distraction.

  Men moved to and fro constantly, with orders being shouted non-stop. Fresh troops would move to the front as the injured were brought back to the camp. Melissa knew that although a Roman surgeon’s skills were good for the time, they were limited in comparison with modern medical techniques. Most of the badly injured would die on the battlefield. Those who made it back to camp would need their wounds treated and there were not enough people available to do the job effectively. Melissa talked Vitruvius into taking them to the injured men to provide whatever assistance they could. Rebecca was far from impressed by the idea, which she felt was beneath her, but Melissa insisted she came, hoping the experience might teach Rebecca some humility.

  They cleaned wounds and bandaged arms and heads each day, collapsing on their beds from sheer exhaustion each night. One young man who had been working on the pontoons was brought in with horrifying burns to one side of his body. He screamed as the surgeon tried to pull the buckled armour away from his charred flesh. There was absolutely no chance he would survive, but the sight of Rebecca seemed to comfort him. Melissa told her to sit and hold his good hand until he finally slipped into unconsciousness and died. It was a horrible thing to make the girl experience and she retched every time she looked down at the boy writhing in agony beside her, but it silenced her incessant whining for a time. Despite her apparent shallowness, Rebecca came to appreciate that there were men in real physical pain, as opposed to the minor discomfort she was suffering.

  When the news of Pompey’s escape finally came, Melissa breathed a sigh of relief. She was tired, ached all over and was covered in dirt and the blood of many men. She could hardly wait to get back to the tent and take off her ruined clothing, which she fully intended to burn at the first opportunity. What Melissa really wanted was a long soak in a hot bath, but she knew there was no chance of that.

  As she collected a pail of clean water, Melissa was startled by a familiar voice speaking to her.
“I did not expect to find you here. I understand you have helped many of my men over the past few days and I am thankful for it. I wonder if you would be so kind as to grant me the same service.”

  She spun round to face Antony, ready to rebuff him for yet another inappropriate remark, but instead simply stared at him in horror. His right arm was covered in blood that had run down from a gash below his shoulder. It looked deep, almost to the bone, and would need to be stitched, but it was not life-threatening.

  Antony spoke again. “I should learn to duck on occasion, but knowing when to has never been one of my better skills.” He reached down and took the pail from Melissa’s hand with his good arm. “Shall we go, in or is it your hope that I will bleed to death here?” he asked with a smile. Without thinking she reached out and took his bloody hand in hers and pulled him into the tent, shouting at Vitruvius to get the surgeon as she went.

  Inside Melissa sat Antony down on a stool away from the door. She was concerned that he had been wounded, but she had no memory of such an event occurring, although admittedly it was not a wound worthy of mention by any historian. It made her wonder whether their sheer presence in the past was altering events, fearful that even the tiniest of changes could be significant to the future, but in reality it did not matter. What was most important at that moment was cleaning the wound to minimise the risk of infection before the surgeon began to stitch. The last thing she needed was for Antony to die from a septic wound because she did a bad job. That would definitely change history as she knew it.

  Melissa searched for a clean cloth, but could not find one that was not already soaked in someone else’s blood. In desperation she stared down at her tunic and spotted a reasonably clean section near the hem. Reaching down, she ripped the material away, exposing most of her thigh.

  Antony smiled in appreciation. “Had I known the sight of a little blood would have you undressing for me, I would have stabbed myself on the first day!”

  Melissa ignored him and began to wash his wound gently, making sure she removed every speck of dirt she could see. Antony never took his eyes off her for one moment. He was mesmerised by the care she was taking over him, despite his having never done anything to merit such attention. He had been deliberately antagonistic and nothing less than rude to her, but still she treated him as tenderly as a mother would her child. What force drove this woman on was a complete mystery to Antony, but, as he watched her tend his injury, he resolved to be more considerate of both her and her companion, hoping it might help him to understand them better.

  The surgeon came over and confirmed Melissa’s suspicions that the wound had to be stitched. There was no anaesthetic, meaning it was going to be extremely painful. Melissa handed Antony a flask of wine which he downed in one go. Vitruvius moved around behind his commander, to hold him still while the surgeon worked. As Melissa moved out of the surgeon’s way, Antony reached out and grabbed her arm.

  “Stay. Talk to me, please.” He spoke the words with so much sincerity that Melissa found she could not bear the thought of leaving him. She had forgotten momentarily which Anthony she was with and her only thought was to help the man in front of her through the next few minutes.

  Melissa sat down on the other side of Antony, took his left hand in hers and stared into his dark brown eyes. He stared back at her, holding her gaze. She had no idea what to say and so she began telling him about her garden. The sensation of the needle tugging at his flesh made Antony’s grip tighten on Melissa’s hand, making her regret her decision to let him hold it. She could hear popping noises from her finger joints as he squeezed, and the sensation of her own bones grinding together sickened her, but she kept talking. All the time Antony stared at her, listening intently. She continued to talk even when the pain from her own hand became so unbearable it made her cry. She watched his face redden as he struggled to hold onto what little control he had left, but still he stared into her eyes, never once blinking.

  When the surgeon finished, Antony smiled weakly. “I believe that was the most honest you have been since your arrival,” he said. “It is a pity I did not understand a word of it.” He slumped forward as he passed out from the pain and it dawned on Melissa that she had been speaking English the whole time, although Antony had not corrected her. She realised that what she had been saying was unimportant − he only cared that she was there to help distract him.

  Chapter 12

  The journey to Rome was far more pleasant than the journey to Brundisium. Extra items kept appearing in Antony’s tent: blankets, more food, clean clothes and even wine, which was a luxury they had previously been denied. When Melissa asked Vitruvius to explain where the items came from, he told her to accept them and to never mention them again.

  Antony never spoke of the incident in the surgeon’s tent and so Melissa assumed that the extra rations were his way of thanking her for her care and dropped the matter. Curio also ceased his attempts to be left alone with Rebecca. He had continually tried to separate her from Vitruvius’ protection on the journey between Corfinium and Brundisium, but he too appeared to have lost all interest and Melissa assumed Antony had something to do with this as well.

  Melissa knew Caesar could not remain in Rome for long. He would journey to Spain within weeks of their arrival, leaving Antony behind to maintain order in Italy. Melissa began to wonder whether she could give Caesar enough information to be allowed to remain behind. Ever since the incident at Brundisium, she felt safer in Antony’s presence than apart from him, even though she expected to have little ongoing contact once they arrived in the city. It was not that Melissa felt Vitruvius could not protect them. She knew he was more than capable of taking any attacker down, but the sheer mention of a connection to Antony meant there would be little need for violence on his part, which would only help to make their lives easier.

  True to his word, Caesar made arrangements for a home to be provided for Melissa and Rebecca. He arranged for a house to be rented in a backstreet on the Esquiline hill, placing the tenancy in Antony’s name to limit any possible connection to him. He also provided a small allowance for Melissa and Rebecca to live on, again via Antony. Vitruvius was to live with them, and received his wage increase as promised.

  The house Caesar provided was not the grand villa Rebecca had imagined. It was of a typical Roman design, approached via a door nestling between two shop fronts. It was small and a little shabby, but more than ample for their needs. The front door opened into a small hall leading through to a covered walkway running along the side of a small courtyard, open to the sky. Melissa was grateful for an open space, no matter how small, because she hated the thought of being trapped indoors all day, believing she would not be allowed too many trips into the city. The main living space consisted of a good-sized dining room and three other rooms suitable for using as bedrooms. A kitchen, store rooms and quarters for one slave completed the accommodation. As cages went, it was reasonably pleasant, or at least it would be once it had been thoroughly cleaned.

  Melissa had asked for a slave to do the shopping and the cooking, which was not a skill she herself possessed. She was completely hopeless in the kitchen, living off ready meals and salads back home, and had no idea where to start with preparing Roman food. Antony put a stop to this saying it was an unnecessary drain on Caesar’s generosity. As a result of Antony’s interference, she and Rebecca would need to go out more frequently in order to buy provisions for themselves in the markets, but never alone. Vitruvius would remain with them at all times for their supposed protection, although Melissa knew his instructions were somewhat different. Vitruvius was under orders to ensure neither woman escaped. Despite assurances to the contrary, Melissa knew only too well that they were Caesar’s prisoners. What Caesar failed to appreciate was that escape for them was not an option as they had no way to return home and nowhere else to go, but at least he was trying to make their internment as tolerable as possible.

  Caesar granted Melissa and Rebecca one more honour.
He granted them permission to wear stolas. These were the garments of Roman women, and it was not permitted for foreigners to wear them. The stola clearly marked a Roman matron, conferring status and a form of protection from unwanted male attention. However, Caesar believed that the unique abilities Melissa had demonstrated warranted her receiving every protection he was able to provide. This also meant Vitruvius’ constant presence would be less conspicuous, as it would appear that he was guarding a high-born Roman lady. It was a bold move by Caesar, but no one was ever likely to question him about it and Melissa was extremely grateful for the ability to blend in.

  Adjusting to Roman life was not easy for either of the women. Melissa was used to roughing it to an extent, having spent many occasions under canvas or in hostels, but for Rebecca the novelty had already worn off. She had coped reasonably well on the journey, but Melissa soon realised that it had more to do with Antony’s proximity. Once he was gone, Rebecca became intolerable, refusing to lift a finger to help in any way. She refused to do any housework beyond cleaning her own room and hated going out into the streets where she felt in constant danger, even though Vitruvius was never far from her side.

  The fact that there was no bath in the house was also gave Rebecca cause to complain. She was disgusted at the idea that she had to go to a public facility, but after a week without running hot water, she soon agreed. All Rebecca really wanted to do was lounge around in the courtyard, making the most of the warm spring air, whilst she blamed Melissa for everything that happened to them.

  Melissa and Vitruvius went out daily on their shopping trips. They would go out early in the mornings to buy fresh provisions at the markets before the best of the produce was gone. To begin with, Vitruvius never let Melissa out of his sight and would insist on returning to the house as soon as possible, but over time he began to trust Melissa and allow her more freedom. On odd occasions he would leave her to browse in the bookshop, paying the owner a few sesterces to keep an eye on her, while he went to less salubrious taverns to drink and be entertained by prostitutes. Melissa had no objections to his behaviour. Vitruvius was a man after all, and he had needs of his own. A mutual trust was developing between them that Melissa was intent on fostering at any cost, and she would always make sure she was exactly where she was meant to be when it was time for them to meet. She would buy him presents when she could save enough money, usually a honey cake from the baker’s shop outside their house, or a book, on the rare occasions she could find one she could afford, which she would then borrow and read. Vitruvius was becoming her friend as much as her jailor and she enjoyed pleasing him and the liberties he granted her in return.