Marius looked down at her in the crook of his arm. “Bella!” he whispered. “I must go.”
“Shhhhh!” Teresa replied. “I want more of you.”
“Yes. I want to make love to you again.”
“I need you. Come into me, one last time. Quickly!”
“If I do not resist and go, we may never have another ecstasy. Allow me to go, my most precious Teresa.”
“Lovers should know of no world but love.” He rose above her, took her deeply, then fell to one side shaking with ecstasy.
Marius held the kiss for longer than he should have, he knew. He would need luck to get back to the forge undiscovered.
Marius took the long way back to the forge in the shadows. It was the safest way to insure if he totally lost his mind he could chance again the touchings with Teresa that scalded and burrowed deep into his heart. The heat of their lovemaking flamed as a fire in his belly.
He told Teresa he would be able to sustain himself through the days and nights by believing at the end of his five years, he would present himself to Captain Morgana and gain his freedom. What also sustained him day and night, he said, was the thought of finding himself in Rome. He knew he had squandered his youth. When he returned to Rome he would do something worthwhile with his life he promised himself. After the experiences of recent years, there would be no challenge with which he could not contend. The major one would be not to lie with Teresa again until he was a free Roman.
At the forge, Horace sensed a frenzy working inside Marius. “Escape! Go way!” he would say to him, “Papa wait for you! Then, come back to Horace! I make you nuts raw meat! Ha! You like?”
As Horace saw how more and more proficient at the forge his student had become, he would say, “I teach you good!” As Horace did less and less, he would demand more and more of Marius. “Do more! Do more!”
Angelus told Marius that he could see a fact that got Horace mad was that Marius had surpassed him as a blacksmith. “Marius, your body is no longer that of a young man. You have developed the strength of four horses. I would not recognize you from our days on the ship to what you now look like. Eh? Your strength has gone beyond anything Horace thought it would, don’t you think? I see his face turn red with envy when he walks into the forge and sees you use pliers to hold a red-hot iron on the anvil with one hand, and lift the sledge to pound the metal with the other. Eh? You do that? You can pick me up with one hand! My feeling? You must be on guard against Horace. I think he go pazzo? Eh?”
“More! More!” Horace would scream at Marius and whack him with the dowel.
“I did two wheel hoops more than you ever did in a morning!” Marius would protest. Marius knew one fact that was upsetting him. He told Angelus, “Do you know Horace sells the foodstuffs he is given by Captain Morgana to feed his workers, and keeps the money for himself?” Angelus looked at him with surprise. “I know you share your food with me, Marius. You really shouldn’t. But, you wouldn’t have to do that if Horace wasn’t such a thief.”
“Just don’t let him know that you know, Angelus. And watch yourself. He may try to get to me through you,” Marius said.
As if Horace heard his words, he stood by the forge watching Marius make sparks fly. He called in Angelus. He prodded Marius to pay attention, and screamed, “More! More work!” Horace then turned to Angelus and whacked him soundly across the buttocks making the man cry out in pain. “You no do more work! I make him pay!” Horace said his lips twisted in a sadistic smile his erection pushing out his leather apron.
Marius made his eyes bore into Horace’s, silently challenging him.
Horace glared back, and instantly smacked Angelus again.
Marius dropped the rim and started to move around the anvil toward Horace.
Acting swiftly, Horace got behind Angelus and held the dowel with two hands against his throat. “Work! Work!” he screamed at Marius as he started to lift Angelus, his eyes bugging, off the floor. “Work! Or I bend him over anvil and give him my flaming iron!”
Marius froze for several seconds. “You even think of that again and I will hold up your beating heart before your eyes.” Marius swung the sledge hammer and let it ring against the anvil.
Horace’s face dropped. He shoved Angelus toward the wheelwright shop, moved to thump him across the shoulder. He glared at Marius who stared back at him. Horace started trembling. He was no longer looking at the dandy from Rome. He turned away to keep his giant of a man from seeing the cloud cross his face. As he walked away, he screamed, “Do not be sure Horace not piss on you grave!”
“Horace!” Marius shouted sharp enough to bring the man to a halt. “Don’t you threaten to beat Angelus ever again. If you do, I will put you on the anvil and beat your brains down to your asshole. I’ll work as I must, but don’t interfere with me ever.”
Horace stood still for a moment. Without turning he said, “Huh! I’ll piss on you grave!”
A month later, on the fifth anniversary of his indentureship, Marius presented himself to Captain Morgana. “With all due respect, I have done well all I was asked. Now I ask you to release me from service.”
“I’ve been expecting this. I will think about it,” Captain Morgana said.
“I’ve served the Empire well. I believe I’ve earned my freedom.”
“I may have to agree you have done a masterful job on the training field. I’m afraid your fate is in the hands of your first evaluator. I must talk to Horace.”
The forge master laughed fully for five minutes when Captain Morgana explained why he was there. Horace anticipated that such a request would be in the air, and he was prepared for it. “Look! Wagon! Shield! Sword! Tool! Iron to repair! And do today! I train him good! You take him away, give like him three back!”
The captain was aware of the contradiction of his statement, but a forge master was a vital cog in the workings of an army. He would sacrifice a Marius if he had to.
“That’s it!” Captain Morgana said to Marius as he stomped away. “Five more years!”
Marius remained transfixed. His world collapsed around him, bit by bit by bit. In five years he would be a broken old man, finding no pleasure in anything human; in maid or mankind; in spirit or spiritual. Even Serafina was beyond recall. Hope was as crushed as if between Horace’s castrating pliers.
Horace, watching Marius collapse psychologically before him, took advantage of the moment. He picked up the white-hot poker and branded Marius on the shoulder. “No go behind back of me!” lips contorted as he shouted. “You ask me first!” The stench of burning flesh filled the shed.
“Angelus?” Marius said after Horace left. “The air has a bad smell to it.”
Angelus held his head up high and sniffed. “I smell nothing. Eh?”
“It comes from my figatto, my liver, my friend.”
“Ah! Now I understand.”
“You can’t, Angelus, even though the two of us have suffered the madding sameness of this place.” Marius thought only the inner and outer pain changed by degrees for a variety of reasons. Revenge was no longer the tempter he found it to be when he was made to leave Rome. He presumed his uncle-in-law, Milo, had already fulfilled his agenda and had consumed the family Estate. Without returning to his family’s fortune, he could never do anything for the girl he disfigured. What would there be for him to return to in Rome? Could he carry his dream of being with Teresa on a sunny plot of land raising a family for five more years? In that time, would either one of them still be alive? My father must have truly hated me to so steal my life and to have housed me in so cruel a coliseum, he thought. He could throw himself bodily onto the flaming forge and not have it equal the pain he felt now scorching his entire body. He saw now, in his vision, in the far distance, Bucelotto, the massive horse galloping at full speed, the sweet smell of the vineyard capturing the sun ray by ray, and even Serafina waving goodbye.
On this day, Angelus, for reasons unknown even to himself, walked into the living quarters and found Marius han
ging from a rafter.
16
Rome at six o’clock in the morning was more active than Roberto thought it would be. Much earlier he left the hotel to find a coffee shop to have breakfast and to dawdle. It was hours before he had to keep his mysterious appointment. All night he found sleep hard to come by with a carnival of thoughts holding court in his brain.
First, his concern was the identity of who had sent him the note. He assumed it had to be someone he had just met or knew he would be in Rome. Of the limited possibilities, he concluded it would have to be Father Oscar. The priest had sent many signals that he was sympathetic to the Clavus Quartus Society. He no sooner brought his name to mind when he recognized Father Oscar from across the square more by his halting strut than by what he looked like. He was not wearing priest’s garb but sweats, a biker’s hat, and running shoes. He could have passed as a tourist out for a morning run. A mere blink between them acknowledged that they had made contact. Roberto stepped out to follow.
When the priest disappeared around a corner, Roberto hurried not to lose him only to catch a glimpse of him disappearing around another corner. Together they went down streets, through alleys, and courtyards until Father Oscar stopped by the door of a house. There, for the first time, he hesitated long enough to confirm Roberto saw him.
Roberto went through the door and faced a courtyard. Father Oscar waited at the far end of a covered passageway. He waved him closer.
“Good morning!” Father Oscar said smiling. “Was not too much for you?”
“Good morning! I’m fine. Tomorrow maybe ten-K.” He smiled.
“The zigzag was for me. You understand. Find your own way here again?”
“No problem. I’m able to mentally draw line routes with turns and remember them. It’s a gift. This was easy,” Roberto said.
“Positive?” Roberto nodded. “Good! Look there,” the priest pointed through the bars of the metal gate at the end of the passageway. “You see the large, heavy wooden door in the wall? Notice there is no lock or knob. You would be surprised if I told you where the door led. If things work out as I think they will, be right outside that door promptly at six o’clock tomorrow morning, not a moment sooner or later. Be prepared for a journey.”
“Father Oscar...?” Roberto started.
“Sorry. You and I we just do? Yes? For Clavus Quartus?” Roberto nodded. Now he understood the reason Father Oscar was so secretive. He believed in Clavus Quartus and was covering his ass. “I must double quick to get back on time. Ciao! Yes!” Father Oscar waved as he went through the gate and took off down the street.
The following morning, exactly at six a.m., Roberto stood by the heavy wooden door. It was pulled inwards only far enough to allow Roberto to slip past.
“Roberto!”
“Father Oscar!”
“I’m delighted to see you.”
“And me you.”
By that time the priest had replaced the beam across the door and was following the light from his lantern down a narrow flight of stairs into a passageway made up of large stone blocks. Roberto, following, picked up the cadence of his steps. The air was thick, damp.
They marched in silence. Roberto was grateful because it allowed him to concentrate on counting the steps, noting turns and curves, and connecting passageways.
Father Oscar stopped. “I must leave you. I have a few minutes. Despite what Father Strozzare said, we have been searching diligently, too, for the fourth nail. Our major researcher was a Father DiBenedetto. He spent almost his entire career here working for the Vatican, but also because he believed in the fourth nail. He spent all his time here in the ancient archives. I thought he was close to a major discovery.
“Most of his searches centered on historical reports, such as they were, about Marius. I emphasize, about Marius, not of Marius. There were stories about this man who had come from the Far East and who was responsible for some unusual events which some called miracles, because of relics he brought with him. And what do you believe, Roberto based on your father’s years of research?” Father Oscar asked.
“I believe that Marius, or whoever this person was who arrived here in Rome with the relics, kept a diary, and I believe the diary exists. It could be anyplace, but let’s hope somewhere here in Rome! Is there any question in your mind that if Marius kept a diary that he would state where he put the fourth nail and whatever other relics he had? To find such a diary would be fantastic”
“Yes. That is what we are all working for. Father DiBenedetto and I were very close. He trusted no one. Except me. He gave me something I believe is critical to finding the fourth nail. Here.” Father Oscar handed Roberto a small metal box. “Inside is Father DiBenedetto’s Breviary. As you well know, it is the book that contains the prayers, hymns, psalms, and readings for the Canonical hours. I confess, I went through the Breviary very closely, quite meticulously, but I could find nothing. I’m sure it holds the key to all Father DiBenedetto discovered. Perhaps you can learn its importance.”
“Thank you, Father Oscar. We will share with you anything we learn.”
“Yes, thank you. I believe I am putting you on the right track. I don’t believe it will hinder your search, in fact, it might help. In any case, I have delayed too long. I must go. Down this passageway for nine meters is the path we took to the Aedicula,” he said. “You remember the niche where I left you to rest?”
“Yes.”
“Return to that exact place there for your journey. Did you lie down earlier?”
“Yes. I felt compelled to do so.”
“Yes. The feeling will return. Once you are there, who knows? You may learn what you must know for Il Clavus Quartus. If nothing else, it will put you in the mode. For whatever you do, one way or the other, be receptive, Marius.”
“Did you call me ‘Marius’?”
“Yes. Get used to it.”
“Father Oscar? I don’t know the way.”
“I must leave you here. You know the reason you will find your way?”
“Yes. I am not making the journey alone.”
“You are so correct.”
XVII
Angelus cut down Marius.
The Roman coughed and choked and realized he had tried to do a stupid thing. Suicide was a fatal alternative. That’s all it was. He could exact his revenge on the world day by day, just as Horace and others like him were doing even though he believed he had lost all reason for life. He expressed this to Angelus.
“How dare you? Eh? You promise me Rome!”
“I didn’t try to kill you! I tried to kill myself! What?” Marius asked.
“I cut you down in time so I save your life? Eh?”
“Give or take one or two other times, yes,” Marius answered.
“So? You owe me?”
“Yes. Like you said you owe me. Call it a draw.”
“I don’t trust you.” Angelus said.
“You want a mouth job or do I go back to hanging myself?”
“I want an oath from you. I want you to swear either you help me avenge my father’s murder, or you will do it! Swear the oath. It clears our debt!” Angelus smiled.
“Sure!” Marius said. “If we ever get out of here.”
“That’s our difference,” Angelus said. “You live in blackness of doubt because you are not sure of your future, while I in the sunlight singing knowing we are here to fulfill our destinies! Eh?”
“You know something, Angelus? Our destiny may be our destiny, but there is something I know must happen in the immediate future. There is an inevitability waiting.”
“Tell me?”
“Sergeant Bastoni and I must have a confrontation. It is as inevitable as the sun rising tomorrow.”
“How do you know these things?”
“Because there is an undercurrent I can feel lately every time I go into the training arena. It shows in little ways. When Bastoni approaches me to instruct me in technique, or when Bastoni roars with laughter when I am caught flatfoot
ed, I can feel it in my bones there has to be a face-off.
“That’s good? Eh? You beat the shit out of him!”
“Problema. If we meet, Bastoni has to come out the winner.”
“The fuck you say? Eh?”
“I wish you were right. Captain Morgana told me, ‘Bastoni must win. Marius, there is no question in my mind, you can defeat Bastoni. Unlike me, an officer, however, Bastoni must earn his authority and respect as a combatant first, then as a leader. If he loses to you, he loses his command and I lose a sergeant.’”
“‘I won’t do it,’” I told Captain Morgana. “‘I respect myself too much.’”
“Do you know what the captain said? ‘Your tombstone will not say you died with your self-respect intact,’ the captain said. I will make it up to you somehow, someway. It does not happen often. The opportunity does come along every now and then. My word.”
This day Marius suited up for his usual stint. Sergeant Bastoni was always on the training field to get things started. The sergeant casually picked up a shield and dowel, looked at the sky for a moment, then handed them to Marius. They both put on leather helmets, and faced each other. Word spread as if it were a dust storm going through the barracks. Within moments onlookers surrounded the training area. Included were Horace and the men at the forge.
Angelus slipped up behind Marius. “You win, you die. Eh? Better you live.”
Marius sized up Bastoni as an opponent. Yes, he thought, they were remarkably quite evenly matched in height and stature.
Slowly, seriously, they took their positions in the arena. They began by circling each other. Each one’s eyes blazed as if trying to burn a hole in the other’s pupils. The air filled with the acrid smell of nervous anticipation and anxiety.
Straining, Bastoni ripped out with the first blow, making Marius’s shield roll like thunder. For the next hour, the shields each echoed a symphony of raining blows, along with a chorus of ratamacues, dowels against dowels. The splats! of dowel against leather were infrequent at first, but increased as each combatant felt each other out, and adjusted to the other’s style.
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