“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Marcus said. “You must have been exhausted from your voyage. You’ve slept most of the morning away.”
“I haven’t had much sleep in a while,” Campbell replied, a little groggy. He had started to speak in English, but quickly caught himself and switched to Latin. “Thank you again for the hospitality.”
Marcus politely corrected Campbell’s vocabulary, still smiling, and said, “I’ve been to the market. I thought I ought to offer you something a little more than left over bread. Would you care for breakfast?”
“I would some appreciate,” he said as he stood up. “I would appreciate some,” he quickly corrected himself.
“You’ll pick it up,” Marcus said. He slapped Campbell on the shoulder as he walked back to the kitchen. Campbell heard him strike a flint stone a few times and he quickly had a fire going in the small fireplace.
Campbell asked Marcus where he could wash up and his host suggested the fountain in the courtyard below. The apartment had no shower or bath and the only form of restroom was a bench set in an alcove against one wall with a hole in the center of it. A wide tube carried waste to the sewers beneath the streets. When he first felt the urge to go the night before he had feared to ask about toilet paper and decided to hold it.
After washing his face in the fountain Campbell went back up to the apartment to find a copper platter on the little dining table piled up with scrambled eggs and roasted veggies. The breakfast was delicious and he thanked Marcus again for being such a kind host. Marcus quickly grew tired of the thanks and told him to stop.
After breakfast they headed to the Forum. Marcus told Campbell that he could get Roman money for his gold there. He only took a small amount with him to the exchange, as he didn’t want to give away how much he had. Even though his friend seemed trustworthy, the small bag of gold was all the money he had and getting back to Boston, in any time, would not be easy without a little cash.
Even this early in the day the streets were packed. As they got closer to the Forum they had to nudge their way through the crowds and Campbell was struggling to keep up. When they got to the little valley between the two largest of the city’s seven hills it made Campbell think of Times Square in New York. At least five thousand people were rushing around the big open square, in and out of merchant booths and store fronts.
They weaved their way to building on the south side of the market, next to the temple of the Vestal Virgins. Inside the building didn’t look too much different from a modern bank. There were tellers sitting behind desks that were separated from each other by large curtains and Marcus and Campbell stood in line at one of them. When their turn came up Campbell let Marcus do the talking and the teller gave him cloth bag full of heavy coins for his gold, after taking a small fee for the bank.
Outside Campbell counted the contents of the bag. He had no idea what kind of an exchange rate to expect and he was surprised to find that he was holding enough money to rent a nice apartment and live comfortably for at least a few months, and he still had gold left back Marcus’s place. He decided he would take some time later and see about renting a villa for the next few weeks.
They spent the rest of the day walking the streets of Rome. Campbell was very familiar with Roman building techniques, he had written his thesis on them, but he found the actual process to be even more sophisticated than historians had pieced together. He asked Marcus question after question and learned how the construction workers were able to build an entire apartment complex in a matter of a few weeks, with fresh water access and even heating and primitive plumbing included.
Marcus didn’t mind all the pestering questions. He thought it was a little odd for a Roman, even one from such a distant province, to not be familiar with a lot of things his companion questioned him about, but he was glad for the company so he didn’t care to inquire any deeper.
That night Campbell offered to repay Marcus’s hospitality by buying him dinner. After a few minutes of debate he decided on a restaurant that was far fancier than Marcus could have afforded. At first Marcus refused, but Campbell said it was the least he could do and eventually persuaded his companion.
The restaurant they chose was in the Palatine, which Campbell compared to Beverly Hills in his time. It was where the rich and famous lived. The restaurant was large and the inside was basically a huge open patio with a long rectangular pond full of colorful fish that ran through the center. There were no tables, instead each person would lay on a lectus and they would share the food from a large platter.
Most of the people in the restaurant wore flowing dresses in bright colors and bleach-white togas, many with the red stripe of a senator. To most of Rome the toga was reserved for fancy occasions and business transactions, much like a suit in Campbell’s day, but here it was almost required dress. For the people of the Palatine every day was a fancy occasion.
They sat at a table near the pond and feasted on pork and duck and washed everything down with fine sweet wine. Over an ample dessert of dates, figs and honey-soaked wheat cakes Marcus turned the questioning towards Campbell.
“How long do you plan on staying in the city?” he asked.
“I hadn’t given it much thought,” Campbell replied. Thinking he was stuffed and couldn’t possibly eat another bite, he somehow popped another fig in his mouth. After swallowing he said, “I suppose at least a few weeks.”
“You should stay with me then,” Marcus offered.
“I couldn’t possibly,” Campbell answered. “I have plenty of money for an apartment of my own. I’ve imposed enough already.
“Nonsense,” the old soldier said. “After this meal it’s the least I could do. Besides, with that grammar you’d never survive.” He chuckled a little.
After a few more minutes of debate Campbell couldn’t resist any longer. He agreed to stay at Marcus’s place, but he compromised by offering to help Marcus out with his rent. And he was actually happy to have a roommate for a while, it would give him a lot more insight into how the Romans actually lived, which was his whole reason for being there after all.
Over the next week Marcus taught Campbell how to speak like a natural born Roman. The two men spent the week exploring the ancient city and Marcus used Campbell’s curiosity to test him on his vocabulary and grammar. He had never done well at school himself but he was having a blast with the exercises. Campbell had brought a small notebook and a pen which he kept hidden in his pouch. Whenever he was sure Marcus wouldn’t notice he would take it out and make quick notes on his experiences.
On Campbell’s third day in Rome Marcus took him to the bath. Romans tended to bathe at least once or twice a week. Every house in Rome had access to fresh water piped in through the aqueducts, but they were taxed on the size of the pipes going into their building. Some of the wealthier people would bathe once a day, but since few were able to afford the proper facilities in their homes they had to pay to use a public bath house and that limited how often they could go.
There were dozens of baths in Rome but Marcus figured it was best to show his new friend some of the nicer aspects of the city. The one to which he took Campbell was not far from the Forum which meant it was a little pricier than some, but that still wasn’t very much. And besides, Campbell offered to pay.
The moment they got to the bath Campbell recognized the building. During his college years he had gone to Italy to intern on a dig, and this was the building that they had been excavating. He had always wanted to know what it would have looked like. There had been dozens of artist’s renderings, but that wasn’t the same. And he could see now how right they were in some areas, and how wrong they were in others.
The building was huge. It was made mostly of stone and all of the walls and floors were covered in blue tile. Massive columns supported the structure inside and out, and there were statues of naked gods everywhere. Everything about the structure of the place was art.
As they entered they were instantly approached by a young
male servant, maybe fifteen years old, who offered to take their clothes. Campbell wasn’t afraid of skinny dipping with a couple ladies back in his teens, but to his modern mind he was a tad hesitant to walk around naked with a bunch of men. But he told himself he couldn’t show hesitation, this is what everyone did and he was supposed to be a Roman.
The servant showed them to a wall of cubbies where they could leave their possessions. Each row of cubbies sat beneath a mural of man and a woman in various Kama Sutra-like positions so one could easily remember which row contained his clothes. Kind of like the letters in a parking garage, Campbell thought. A very large man with too many muscles in a tunic that was a few sizes too small was standing by the cubbies so no one had any worries about leaving their things unattended. They placed their clothes in a cubby, handed the servant the few sestercii for the entry fee and walked through a tall archway to the next room.
There were three big rooms in the bath house and Campbell recognized the layout from the foundation he had helped to excavate. The archway led into a corridor that carried patrons into each of the rooms separately. The first pool was for warm water, heated by massive furnaces under the floor which had to be constantly stoked by some most likely very uncomfortable slaves. There was a gym and that was the starting point for those who wanted to work up a sweat before bathing, but Marcus and Campbell bypassed that and went straight for the pool.
The pool took up the vast majority of the room. The supporting columns came down into the water in two wide rows down the center of the pool. It was about as deep as the average man’s belly button and as Campbell stepped down the wide stairs into the water he thought the temperature was somewhere between swimming pool and Jacuzzi. It was pleasant.
There were two dozen or so men wading in the pool, but it wasn’t crowded. Campbell caught bits of conversations here and there as men were discussing the daily news and the most recent gossip. A few men were arguing about how illegal immigration was going to bring about the downfall of the Empire. The bath was as much a place to get the news as it was for cleanliness, like watching CNN in the shower.
When their bodies had adjusted to the temperature in the warm pool it was time to move to the hot one. This, the Romans believed, was where you actually get clean. The warm pool was just to raise your body temperature so you could handle the hot pool. Campbell and Marcus climbed out of the warm pool and headed down the short hallway to the next room.
This one felt like a sauna the moment they walked in. There was so much steam filling the room they could barely see through the haze as they walked down the four wide steps into the pool. The steps actually made benches that stretched around the entire pool and they sat and soaked for about ten minutes, which was all Campbell could take. He felt like a lobster being boiled to death.
After a short swim in the refreshing cold pool, and taking in all of the latest news of the empire, Campbell and Marcus headed out to the lobby, toweled off, and retrieved their clothes. Marcus said that he had something in mind, so they walked back towards his place.
“Do you want just hands and mouth or the whole deal?” she asked. “Back door is extra.”
Campbell was standing with his back to the only door in a small room with no windows. There was a small bed, roughly the size of twin bed, in the corner that took up most of the free space and on it sat a young dark haired, dark skinned girl in her late teens. She spoke Latin well, but with an accent. She was a slave.
He was in the brothel he had come across when he first entered the city, on Marcus’ insistence. When Marcus first suggested it he had argued, but it was futile. It was Marcus’s gift and this was the most expensive girl in the place, though even she only cost ten sestercii. The same price a nice glass of wine. And besides, he had told himself, you came here to see life as an ancient Roman so do as the Romans do.
The girl was beautiful, he couldn’t say he didn’t want her but he had anxiety over the thought of bedding a slave. Even though she was being paid, it was her profession and she was used to it, it still wasn’t really her choice. Oh well, he thought, when in Rome. He took option one.
It didn’t take long. He hadn’t been with a woman in a few years and there was a bit of thrill in the taboo of the whole situation, at least in his modern mind. But when it was over he felt a stronger connection to this time. He was truly blending in with the ancient people. He started to feel less like a tourist and more like a Roman.
When he came out into the foyer Marcus was waiting there with a smile on his face.
“That didn’t take long,” Marcus said with a little giggle.
They headed out to Marcus’ favorite alehouse from there. He frequented these places, like many former soldiers. Most days until now Marcus had taken Campbell around to see all the sites he wanted to see. They watched the last days of the construction of the Coliseum, as artists scrambled to finish all the statues and columns on time. They sat in on a gladiator training session, where they saw a man covered in blue swirling tattoos take on four larger men with wooden weapons. Marcus explained everything they were doing. He told him how the instructors, who seemed like massively built versions of the drill sergeant from Full Metal Jacket, were teaching the gladiators how to put on a good show. It was more about the event leading up to the killing than about the actual killing part.
They saw the Aqueduct and Marcus showed him how the water fell down the different levels and spread out, gravity carrying fresh water to all the people of the greatest city on earth. They piled in with crowds to watch a Roman General parade his troops and captives and beasts through the streets in a glorious Triumph from the northern gate to steps of the Senate. But Marcus saw all that as too touristy. He wanted his foreign friend to see Rome the way Romans lived and Campbell was ever eager to follow.
The Phoenician was a small tavern, hidden at the end of the marketplace. It was dimly lit. There were a few dirty windows but no candles or lamps. It wasn’t like a bar Campbell was used to. There were no bartenders, no long counter. There were low tables set up throughout the place and everyone sat on cushions on the floor. Large many-hosed hookahs made center pieces on the tables and in some places as many six people were sucking in smoke all at once.
Marcus picked a table close to the door where there was a little more light and almost immediately a young, dark slave girl came over with a large clay mug for each of them. Campbell offered to pay but Marcus insisted, even though it was obvious he didn’t have much money. The slave girl lit a coal on the bowl of the hookah with a long stick that had a bit of flaming tar on the end. Marcus sucked on the hose until a large cloud of sweet smelling smoke billowed out of his mouth and nostrils and when he was satisfied he dismissed the slave girl.
Campbell took the hose his friend offered him and breathed slowly. The smoke was so smooth he didn’t even realize he had gotten any until he exhaled, when a huge cloud of white smoke flowed out of his lungs. The smoke tasted like honey with some sort of fruit. He liked it.
As he exhaled his second lungful of the sweet smoke he thought back on how much he smoked and drank in order to blend in with the various times he had visited. Time travel is terrible for your health, he thought.
The slave girl was stopping by their table every five or ten minutes and Campbell was starting to think twice about how bad slavery is. He had never had such good service at restaurant in his time. At one point he asked the girl her name and she said it was Amunet.
“That’s a pretty name,” Campbell said.
She thanked him and told him where she had come from. When he didn’t understand Marcus said it was in the south of Egypt. There wasn’t a ‘no talking to the waitress’ policy at the Phoenician and though she was technically the property of the owner she could do pretty much what ever she wanted outside of work. She was of course required to do anything her master wanted at any time, and Campbell knew from history that pretty much all slaves in ancient Rome were sex slaves as well, but she had a surprising amount of freedom.
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br /> When she wandered over to check on another table Campbell noticed a game of dice being played and he asked Marcus to explain how the game worked. There were three dice in a cup. Everyone would put a few coins on the table and one man would shake the dice up in the cup and slam it upside down on the table. He looked at his dice and said what the value was, without letting anyone else see. The next player had the option of accepting what the first roller claimed and trying to roll a higher score, or call him a liar. It reminded Campbell of playing Bullshit when he was a kid.
About the time they ordered their third round of drinks a man walked through the doorway and stood staring at Marcus. He was much shorter and a bit wider than Marcus and covered in as many scars. The two men stared at each other for moment and then the newcomer took out a knife.
“Lunicus,” Marcus said with a flat tone and a stern face, “It’s so good to see you.”
“That didn’t sound very convincing,” Campbell said quietly.
“What the fuck are you doing here Marcus?” the newcomer shouted. He seemed to be a bit drunk and was obviously not very happy.
“Showing my friend here the city,” Marcus replied in a monotone. “Sit down, Lunicus, I’ll buy you a drink.”
“You owe me fifty sestercii, you cheating bastard!” Lunicus yelled.
“I don’t think he wants a drink, friend,” Campbell said softly to Marcus.
“You lost that game fair and square, Lunicus. You know you shouldn’t play dice when you’re that drunk,” Marcus’s voice never changed. He was calm, and stern but polite, which seemed to be pissing the newcomer off even more. Campbell got the feeling something bad was about to happen.
“Perhaps we should be on our way,” Campbell suggested.
Before Marcus could respond the other man charged towards their table. He made it two steps at a fast pace before he was stopped short by Marcus’ hulking frame. It took only the blink of an eye for the old soldier to stand, take a step forward to block the other man’s path, move the knife out of the way with his left and punch him square in the nose with his right, causing him to stumble back a few paces before regaining his balance and trying to charge again. This time Marcus grabbed the hand with the knife in it and twisted until Lunicus was facing the other way. Then he kicked the man’s feet out from under him and simultaneously broke a mug over his head and twisted the wrist a little more and there was a loud crack. Lunicus’ body went limp and slumped to the floor.
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