Rubicon

by Linda Coleman

  Caesar sighed sadly, knowing that one day Antony would eventually succeed in bedding Melissa, and that he would be powerless to stop it, and instead focused on the matter at hand. “That is the best compromise I can offer you, Lissa. I suggest you take it. Now, I must bid you good day. I have more pressing matters to attend to in the Senate.” He nodded curtly and left the room just as Vitruvius returned from the town.

  Melissa’s shock was nothing compared to the horror on Vitruvius’ face when she recounted what had occurred. He had believed Caesar would take action once he knew of Antony’s failings, but it appeared Antony was being watched over by the goddess Fortuna herself. It planted the first seed of doubt in Vitruvius’ mind as to whether Caesar was the man he had always believed him to be.

  Chapter 15

  Caesar stayed in Rome long enough to oversee the elections for the following year and to make plans for his renewed pursuit of Pompey. He was elected consul, but left long before taking up his office, leaving Antony to tie up any loose ends before joining Caesar with the extra troops he was tasked to recruit. Melissa told Caesar there was no need for haste as the weather would prevent his departure, but he did not heed her words and headed south only to cool his heels in port whilst the winter winds blew their worst over the Adriatic. He eventually set sail from Brundisium in January 48 B.C., proving her right once again.

  About the same time as Caesar set sail, Rebecca went into labour. It was too early, if her calculations were correct, and she seemed to sense something was wrong. Rebecca appeared to be in far too much pain for normal contractions. Melissa had no idea what to do other than to send Vitruvius for the midwife, whose help Caesar had promised.

  The midwife came immediately and confirmed Melissa’s fears. It was too early and the baby had not turned; it was in the breach position. She hardly rated its chances for survival, but worse still, it was going to be agonising for Rebecca to endure the labour.

  The midwife refused to let Vitruvius help, slamming the bedroom door in his face. Melissa had appeared shortly after, asking him to boil water and to gather as much clean linen as he could. He willingly headed into the kitchen, where the sound of Rebecca’s wailing was reduced by the extra walls that now separated him from her. When Melissa came for the water, he asked what else he could do, but she had simply shaken her head and left as quickly as she had come. Vitruvius was left to sit alone in the kitchen staring at the wall as he allowed a feeling of utter helplessness to wash over him. He closed his eyes and tried to shut out the noise of Rebecca’s wails as they turned into screams of agony.

  For the first time in years he began to think of his home and of the sisters he had not seen for over fifteen years. They would be fully grown by now and most likely married to some local boys from the neighbouring farms, probably with children of their own. He thought about the times he used to tease them and pull their hair. He recalled one particular day when they went missing. He was supposed to have been watching the girls and his mother had scolded him for not taking better care of them. He had been paralysed with fear for their safety and hid in a barn until they had been found. His father beat him severely, calling him a worthless piece of humanity before sending his son far from his sight. Vitruvius still bore the scars on his backside where the whip had cut through his clothing.

  Not long afterwards, Vitruvius had run away to join the legions, determined to prove his father wrong. Thinking back to that past event made him realise that he had been looking on Melissa and Rebecca as surrogates for the sisters he had walked away from. Once again his fear was preventing him from functioning. It was as if he was still hiding in that barn, praying to the gods for the safety of two helpless girls, except now his prayers were for the two women in the other room. He did not even notice as the light of the day slowly faded and left the room in darkness.

  Vitruvius woke the next morning slumped across the kitchen table. Every muscle ached from where he had been sleeping across the hard wooden surface. He lifted his head and listened, but could hear nothing. He rose, leaving the kitchen and walked across the courtyard with some trepidation. The silence was far worse to bear than the screaming had been. He paused and listened again. He could hear voices coming from Rebecca’s room, but he was unsure whose they were or what they were saying.

  Suddenly the door opened and the midwife bustled into the hall. She looked at Vitruvius and shook her head. “It is a boy. He may live, but the mother will not. The strain was too much for her. Pay me and I will leave you to say your goodbyes,” she said, holding out her hand.

  Vitruvius was stunned at the news. Rebecca was dying. He heard the words, but he did not want to believe it was true. He could still hear her talking to Melissa, so there had to be some mistake. Rebecca had to be well. He put a small pouch into the midwife’s outstretched palm, but made no movement towards the bedroom.

  The midwife felt the weight of the pouch and nodded her approval. As she looked at Vitruvius staring blankly into space, she felt sorry for him. “Do not linger here, she has little enough time. I will see myself out,” she said and gently guided him towards the open bedroom door.

  Vitruvius entered the room cautiously. As he stared at Rebecca lying on the bed holding the sleeping baby, he knew the midwife had not been mistaken. She looked so pale. She was hardly able to raise her arm to welcome him as he approached the bed and sat on a chair to the side. He took Rebecca’s hand in his, holding it to his face as the tears began to flood down his cheeks. Her hand felt so cold, as if the life had already drained from it.

  Rebecca turned her head and whispered to the tearful Vitruvius, “This is Antonius. Care for him as you have me. Swear it.”

  “I swear it.” Vitruvius almost choked on the words as they left his mouth. He fought to summon the words to tell Rebecca how he felt about her, but they remained stuck in his throat and would not come, no matter how hard he tried to say them aloud.

  “I’m tired, I think I’ll sleep for a while,” Rebecca mumbled to herself in English, but Vitruvius had no idea what she said. He could only watch as she turned her head back towards the baby before closing her eyes for the final time. After a moment, her hand went limp within his. He kissed the back of it tenderly before laying her arm back across her body and around the baby. Then he laid his own head on the bed next to her, and wept.

  Melissa stood on the opposite side of the bed. She felt numb. She had lost people in her life before and she had been struck with the grief immediately, but this time she felt no emotion. She and Rebecca had always had their differences, but she had never wished her dead. Now she began to wonder what it was she had failed to do to keep this poor girl safe. All along Melissa had been so concerned with minimising the effect they were having on history that she had failed to consider the impact they were having on their own futures. Could she have stopped this from happening if she had only kept a closer eye on Rebecca’s wellbeing? She felt she should have taken more time to explain to Rebecca what Antony was like, convincing her that she would be stupid to get involved with him. Or perhaps she should have insisted Rebecca try a termination when there had still been time, regardless of how dangerous to her health it would have been. It could not have been any worse an outcome than this.

  The activities of the day and night before had taken their toll, leaving Melissa mentally and physically exhausted. Rebecca had been terrified when she was told the baby was breach and had said she could not go through with the labour. Melissa had comforted her through every painful contraction. Rebecca had screamed obscenities at her most of the time, but in between the outbursts had been tears and heartfelt regret for not having made more of an effort to be Melissa’s friend. Rebecca had longed for Antony to arrive and Melissa had lied continually, telling Rebecca he was on his way, but eventually even Rebecca had admitted that he would never come. This final acceptance of his disinterest had broken Rebecca’s will to go on. Melissa had been forced to bully her into every last push to force the baby from her weakened body.r />
  Melissa had relaxed when the baby took its first breath, letting loose its first cry, but then she noticed there was far more blood than she was expecting. The midwife too looked horrified and Melissa knew instinctively that something was wrong. No matter what the midwife tried, she could not stop Rebecca from bleeding. As Melissa cleaned and wrapped the baby in a blanket, the midwife told them that Rebecca was going to die. Oddly, Rebecca had remained calm when Melissa had explained what was happening, asking only to hold her son. Rebecca named him after the father who did not care for him; she named him in Latin, Antonius. Finally she made Melissa promise never to let any harm come to her son and to make sure he had the best chance at life that Melissa could give him, so long as she was alive to provide for him.

  Melissa stared down at the tiny infant still cradled in Rebecca’s lifeless arms. He was her responsibility now. He was alive and needed the love of someone to replace the mother he would never know, although Melissa had no idea where to begin or whether she was up to the task. Of course, little Antonius still had one parent left alive, and he was a man who could give his son the best chances in life that any child could hope for in Ancient Rome.

  It was as if Melissa were guided by some unseen hand. Gathering the baby in her arms, she wrapped him in another blanket before she left the room and then the house, leaving the front door wide open. She had not thought to change her own clothes that were smeared with blood and birthing fluids, or even to cover herself with a cloak to keep out the bitter January winds.

  As the icy blast that entered the house through the open door swept into the bedroom, Vitruvius finally raised his head. He realised immediately that Melissa and the baby had gone. He went into the hall and ran to the door where he saw the back of Melissa as she wandered down the hill towards the Forum, wearing only her indoor dress. The few people out on the road stared at her in disbelief as she passed them by. Vitruvius grabbed his sword and cloak, and another cloak for Melissa, and ran after her.

  As he reached her, he threw the cloak around her shoulders and pulled her towards him. She was shaking because she was so cold, but he made no effort to try to stop her walking. “Where are you going?” he asked, falling in step beside her. “You will freeze to death like this.”

  “This baby needs a father,” Melissa replied as she took a right turn, heading towards Antony’s home. “Without one he will have no rights to a free life in this city. His real father still lives, even if his mother does not.”

  “You are insane. Antony will not acknowledge the child unless my sword is at his throat.” Vitruvius stopped walking as his own words sank in. What if he were to challenge Antony, for the sake of the child? Could he win? Could he force an admission of guilt from his mentor’s lips, and would it have legality if he did? He redoubled his pace to catch up with Melissa who was still walking at the same steady speed.

  “I do not want you to intervene,” she said, as he drew level. “This fight is between him and me. Antony began this when he took Rebecca to his bed and he will take responsibility. Without a Roman father, the child has no future of any worth. I do not want you to do anything except get me into his audience chamber. Do you understand me, Vitruvius?”

  “Of course I understand, but I can help you force him to concede if you will only let me. I loved her and I will do whatever you ask of me to protect her son.”

  “No, you must not get involved. If I fail, Antony’s revenge will be swift upon me and you will then be this boy’s only hope. I have a great deal of respect for you, Quintus Vitruvius, and I know only too well that you would lay your life down for me, but I am asking you to stand aside this one time. You have to do this for me, for Rebecca and, more importantly, for him.” Melissa looked down at the small boy asleep in her arms and stopped walking. She had reached her destination. Only one more door and a small queue of people, also waiting for an audience, stood between her and the man whom she sought. There was no going back. Antonius’ life depended on what would happen in the next few minutes.

  Melissa looked up into Vitruvius’ eyes, her own pleading with him silently. He was torn between doing what was right for himself, and what was best for the child. Antony had deprived him of the woman he loved and now that she was dead, he had lost his chance to tell her how he felt. He wanted to run Mark Antony through for that alone, but Melissa was holding the small, defenceless infant who was all that was left of the most beautiful person who had ever been a part of his life. Melissa had been right about so much up until now. Caesar trusted her: he had to trust her.

  Vitruvius ran one arm around Melissa and then pushed through the line of people towards the front door. One began to object, but he soon went quiet as Vitruvius pulled the cloak from Melissa’s shoulders allowing her sodden, blood-stained clothing back into view. The onlookers spoke to each other in whispers as the pair passed by, but no one made any further attempt to stop them until they reached the door to the atrium where Antony was conducting business for the day. True to form, Antony had stationed two guards outside, overstating his own importance. The guards at the door had seen Melissa before on one of her many trips to Caesar’s home, and recognised her immediately. One of them checked the bundle in Melissa’s arms and smiled to himself. He had always assumed her to be one of Antony’s many mistresses and it looked as if Antony had got a little more than he had bargained for this time around. He nodded to the other guard to take a look and then whispered to him to let her and Vitruvius pass. They kept them back until the man Antony was speaking with had finished, and then let them enter without further question. Secretly they were just as interested in what was going to happen as the rest of the people gathering at the door. Neither of them bothered to search Vitruvius, who could not believe his luck to be entering the chamber armed. He was still considering the possibility of forcing Antony into an admission of fatherhood at the point of his sword, regardless of Melissa’s pleas to the contrary.

  Vitruvius entered the room first and positioned himself in front of Antony, who was lounging in his chair at the top of a platform raised from the main floor by two steps. To one side of him stood a secretary, who was on hand to remind Antony who it was he was speaking to and to make notes of the day’s proceedings.

  Antony looked bored senseless. Vitruvius adjusted his cloak slightly to show that he was armed. Antony looked at him quizzically, wondering why he was carrying his sword and then spotted Melissa as she stepped out from behind him. The state of her made him start forward in his chair. He was horrified at her dress and was about to ask how she had been injured when he heard a gurgling noise coming from the blanket in her arms. He knew that noise all too well from when his daughter had been born and presented to him in a similar fashion. He sat back in surprise. Melissa was holding a baby and she was bringing it to him.

  Melissa placed the child on the floor below Antony’s feet. It was the Roman custom for a baby to be placed at the feet of its father and for him to pick it up, thereby acknowledging it as his. She was determined to make him take responsibility for the child he had fathered.

  As she stood up, the two of them stared at each other just as they had the very first day they had met, their eyes locked together in a silent battle of wills, but this time Melissa had no intention of looking away. She made no effort to hide the contempt on her face. At that moment, Mark Antony was nothing to her and she wanted him to know how little she thought of him. Lying on the cold tiles, the child began to cry.

  Antony had no intention of picking up the baby. To do so was political suicide. He was in charge of the country in Caesar’s absence and could not be seen to give in to the demands of some foreign woman. Antony stared back at Melissa, but the lack of respect she displayed was beginning to anger him. If one of his slaves were to challenge him in such a way, he would beat them, and he was definitely feeling the urge to take a whip to this arrogant woman. His eye twitched involuntarily and it made him shift his glance for a fraction of a second. It was enough though for Melissa to no
tice. She smiled at him, cruelly.

  That was the final straw for Antony. He shot out of the chair and stood on the edge of the raised platform. “What is it you want here, woman?” He shouted so loudly that everyone in the room flinched, except Melissa.

  She continued to stare at Antony as she delivered her reply in the loudest voice she could manage. “This child is the son of the woman with whom I came to Caesar one year ago. Caesar gave me his word she would not be defiled, yet this boy is proof that some men do not place any importance in the word of Caesar. The mother has died giving him life. The child will die without the love and support of his father. That man stands before me and I demand he honour his responsibilities.”

  Behind her, Melissa could hear the onlookers in the room outside muttering to each other as they fought to get a better look at what was going on. They could hear every word she was saying. Whatever happened next, she had succeeded in embarrassing Antony, who looked ready to explode. He stepped down off the platform and stood in front of her, his foot menacingly close to the baby’s head. With one move of that foot, he could crush the delicate skull and end the child’s life. Still the baby cried. Melissa closed her eyes. She could not bear to watch if he decided to murder Antonius; hearing the sickening crunching noises would be bad enough.