The Fourth Nail: An Historical Novel

by Paul Argentini

  Marius pointed to the sword. “You have practiced the sword all these years, Milo. I’m glad to see you, too, realize discretion is the better part of valor.”

  Milo folded his arms across his chest smirking at Marius.

  Cora marched over, picked up the sword, and held the handle out to Milo. “He will take everything! He will leave us nothing!”

  Unseen, Sergeant Bastoni entered the room.

  “Thank you, but no need just now, Cora,” Milo said. “I’ll just watch Marius bleed to death.”

  “And I can do the same for you!” Marius said holding his wound tightly. Out of the corner of his eye, Marius spotted the sergeant.

  “Marius!” the sergeant cried out. “Is you! Captain Morgana tell me you here. Ha! What strange!”

  Marius turned to greet him.

  Milo snatched the sword offered by Cora, and lunged at Marius. Cora screamed.

  Instinctively Marius whirled, parrying the blade with his sword. He saw the terror fill Milo’s eyes, and watched it fade after his sword completed its arc and cut down, hard into his sword arm. Marius drew his blade back and shoved it through Milo’s stomach. He uttered a short cry, and fell to the floor dying.

  “I teach you good you soldier’s sword!” Bastoni said smiling. “You not good like me. I show you good last time. I beat you good! You forget? I forget?”

  “Yes, I will forget. We put on a good show, Bastoni. I remember it well. I will remember it for all of my days,” Marius said.

  “No, you must not forget. I remember always,” Bastoni bragged. “Past times is past times? Yes?”

  Marius walked to the sergeant. “Yes. Past times is past times.”

  “We do wound!” Bastoni said.

  “It’s not even a scratch! Let me look at my old adversary!” Marius said.

  “One time you do as Bastoni say. I good to see you. I retire soon. My soldiers much respect for you as fighter. I beat you, respect go to me. Good you no feeling bad to Bastoni.” Marius shook his head slowly. “Good! Old is old!” Bastoni looked around the home. “...all yours. The gods be good you.”

  “In your official capacity, can you help dispose of these two bodies,” Marius said.

  The sergeant nodded. “Just say.”

  “Do you see any problems?”

  “No. I do all the time,” Bastoni answered.

  “Cora, I’m sorry, but this makes you a widow. The wish gave rise to the deed,” Marius said.

  “What are brothers for?” Cora asked with a subtle smile. Then, pulling him aside, “Marius, that is more than a scratch. Shall I call for a physician?”

  “Thank you, but I’ll take care of it. It will be fine...” In his mind, he already knew what he was going to do. There was always room for doubt when he thought of the powers of the relics. He always found there could be a different attribution to the changes supposedly caused by the relics. This was the perfect opportunity for validation of the power of the fourth nail. He acknowledged there would be no test like a test upon oneself.

  Bastoni called in guards and removed the bodies after he and Marius promised to meet the next day.

  Marius bound the wound as tightly as he was able, and went to Beatrice’s empty house. There, he undid the bandage. The wound still bled. He stood directly over the spot where he buried the gold box containing the fourth nail and the neck cloth. He closed his eyes. Suddenly he was aware that he had dozed off, and that his right hand was cold. He shook his head to clear it. He looked at his chest. There was only the bloody tunic. The wound was completely gone.

  He knew then beyond any doubt that the relics held great mystical power. He thought of the prisoner he had crucified. He was overcome with thoughts of superstition as his skin crawled. It brought to mind the crucifixion, the first task he was given. The second task was to bring the relics to Rome. Those two were done. But? The third task was always on his mind. After all this time, his wound mysteriously healed, it came to him as a revelation. There had to be a written record of his story from the time he got to Jerusalem to the present moment.

  He would write it.

  It would be his story.

  It would be The Marius Diary, as he was commanded.

  32

  Roberto paced the room as Diura and Stella watched.

  When he stopped, he held his chin and nodded his head. “I have a plan. Stella, if you don’t mind, I will ask you to return home. I believe the best place for you to be would be by the computers. Diura and I will go to Rome. If I could divine Marius of Rome, he could lead us directly to where he hid the fourth nail. I can’t do that, but that’s exactly what we need.”

  “So?” Diura shrugged and tossed her head, pursing her lips.

  “So, we do the very best next thing.” he said.

  “If you don’t spit it out, I’ll scream!” Stella said.

  “No need. We are going to hunt up someone almost as good as Marius.”

  XXXIII

  Teresa, and the thought of seeing her at lunch, kept Marius from sleeping that night and made him walk in the garden all morning long. He thought, “I will ask Cora to arrange to have the luncheon served under the grape arbor. No! Too informal. Perhaps it should be in the grand salon? Or, perhaps, in an intimate setting in the atrium?” Also, in his mind, over and over he repositioned the seating arrangement, then settling on Captain Morgana and he on either end, “Then again...” he started. He no sooner began with Cora than she sent him back to the garden.

  A servant found Marius seated on a bench holding his head in both hands, and told him his guests had arrived. They were waiting under the grape arbor. His hands shook visibly as he raised one in greeting to Captain Morgana, who was standing at the far end of the table. Unbelievably, Teresa was before him. He started at her sandals, and slowly his eyes moved up her body until he found her face, then locked into her eyes. They were glistening. He felt his breathing stop. He opened his mouth but could not find his voice. In the background he heard Captain Morgana introduce his wife, Marianna, and then Teresa. He could not take his eyes from her. Marius held her name on his lips.

  “Teresa ..” he said.

  “Marius...” she said.

  They all sat. Marius and Captain Morgana were at the ends of the table. Cora was seated in the center to Marius’s left; to his immediate right, sat Teresa; and her mother next to her. Immediately, Teresa slid her foot over until it rested on Marius’s. For Marius the touch flashed up his leg, over his genitals, into his stomach, surrounded his heart and stopped it.

  “A different setting, surprising and unexpected, from the days in Jerusalem,” Captain Morgana started. “My first experience meeting someone socially who had been previously entrusted to my keeping. I see you as a man who has been tested, Marius. You’ve proven yourself quite successfully. I am curious about the rumors I keep hearing throughout Rome of a strange power you possess? I heard none of this about you when you were at the forge.”

  Marius nodded. “I have no control over the rumors. Briefly, they have to do with relics I brought back with me from Jerusalem.” Marius related the essential facts involving the fourth nail.

  Captain Morgana sat quietly when Marius ended his story. He nodded and raised a hand. “Marius, I have been a lifelong Roman soldier, a captain of the guard. I have seen much of the ways of the world. I did not always have the luxury to think things over. It was right or wrong, black or white, this or that. It was a hard and brutal world: battles, crucifixions, prisoners and slaves. These relics--this fourth nail--and what it can and can’t do does not excite me at all. I am too much a realist to consider any interest at all in the force your nail may or may not represent. However...” he started, then stopped to stare hard into Marius’s eyes. “...there is a matter that seeks settlement that is my responsibility. Based on the information I gathered from witnesses at the forge, I have a warrant for the death of Horace the Forge master, a Roman soldier, by your friend, Angelus. Can you tell me of him?”

  “Yes.”
/>
  “I admire loyalty, but this is a matter that must be cleared up,” Captain Morgana said sternly.

  “Angelus was killed on our journey home,” Marius said. “He is buried in the sands across the water to the far south. I affirm that.”

  The captain nodded his head and drummed his fingers on the table.

  Marianna looked first at Teresa, and then at Marius, and said, “How did you two get to know each other?”

  An earthen pot might as well have crashed onto the tabletop.

  Captain Morgana sat up and coughed loudly. Marius and Teresa stared at Marianna. Then, there was stone silence.

  Marianna went on: “I knew Teresa watched you on the training field, Marius. In fact, we spoke to each other about you. It may be partly mother’s intuition, but seeing you both together like this it is apparently obvious you are friends? I sense it.”

  “Is this true?” Captain Morgana said, “How is this possible?”

  Teresa said slowly, “When Marius would come to rest in the shade, I would put wine outside for him to drink. We would talk.”

  “Talk?” the captain said sternly.

  “Yes, for a long time, father,” Teresa answered. “It was months and months, for more than a year.”

  “We got to know each other very well,” Marius said. He turned to stare into Teresa’s eyes, “Sir. I would like to ask your permission to call on Teresa. My intentions would be to ask for her hand in marriage.”

  Captain Morgana leaped to his feet, his eyes narrowed, his face flushed. “Absolutely not!” he declared. “You shall not call, court or consort with my daughter!”

  “Father!” Teresa said.

  “Not another word,” Captain Morgana said looking at Teresa. “You are never to see this man again! We are leaving.” He pointed his finger at Marius; “You are not to trouble us in any way. You are not to come to our home. If you dare, I will arrest you for aiding and abetting the murder of a Roman soldier!”

  Marius stood up. “Captain Morgana, with all due respect...”

  “Do not... !” He glared at Marius, “...challenge me.”

  Alone again in the garden, Marius knew no amount of diplomacy, no matter how wise or charming the emissary, would surmount the captain’s feelings towards him as a son-in-law. He also was aware of the man’s rigidity. Marius knew he would lose Teresa forever unless he came up with a daring plan. The captain would not keep Teresa at home no matter how protected it was. If he were Captain Morgana he would send his daughter as far away as he could to keep her and Marius apart. He was sure the captain would move quickly.

  Late that afternoon, Marius sent word to Bastoni to meet him before nightfall at Beatrice’s home, which he owned and was still vacant.

  “You no to ask Bastoni do this, Marius! Much me to lose.”

  “Do not be concerned about your retirement pay,” Marius assured him. “I will give you enough to take you far into your old age.”

  “Ah! Is not money! Army my life. If Captain Morgana know I help you, he chase me out. I have little time for live. I no want take chance.”

  “What do you mean ‘little time for live?’”

  “Physician say I have three moons left. I spit blood. Come from behind. Stomach in pain. Nothing to do. I retire to die.”

  The thought flashed into Marius’s head that Bastoni could be another test of the relics.

  Without making much of it, Marius started strolling through the house as he talked to the soldier. He led Bastoni into the salon and stopped him so he stood over the hidden relics. “Teresa will be taken out of Rome to be kept far away from me. Her father knows it would be otherwise impossible to keep us apart. I have no idea where she is going. I need only know when soldiers from your barracks are assigned to make a journey for Captain Morgana. That’s all.”

  Bastoni looked at him strangely. He turned away and held his chin. He turned back to Marius and said, “I know now.”

  Marius beckoned him to follow stopping several times on the way back to the atrium as they spoke. “Bastoni, I understand how difficult this is for you. This is simply a matter of the heart. Teresa and I want to be together. For whatever reason Captain Morgana does not want us to be together, that reason is not as important as the love Teresa and I share. Is that reason enough for you to tell me what you know?”

  “No.”

  “Let me shake your hand, Bastoni.” Marius felt its iciness. “Bastoni, let us give each other our word what occurs here tonight remains secret. I will tell no one you aided me, and you will tell no one I aided you.”

  “How you help me?”

  “First, promise on your mother’s eyes!”

  “Promise. Yes.”

  “And I promise, too. If I make you well so you may enjoy a lengthy retirement, would that be good enough for you to tell me what you know?”

  “How you promise that?”

  “Would that be reason enough to tell me?” he repeated.

  Bastoni thought a second, then nodded. “Yes. Hope. Good to have hope.”

  “You have my word. I would not lie to you. You will be well, I promise. You must keep my promise secret.”

  “Marius?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is nice if you right. I like live long time. Tomorrow. Late afternoon. Teresa and mother leave.”

  “Thank you, Bastoni. I am indebted. One other minor thing, if I may ask. I know the Roman stores hold scrolls, ink, and quills. I don’t know where I can get so many so fast. Tomorrow early, could you drop off here perhaps five scrolls, some ink and quills?”

  “Yes. I do. You do good for me.”

  Yes, Marius acknowledged. He had an important task to do he had not given to himself.

  34

  Father Oscar. They would contact him. He would be of even more help than Marius of Rome.

  XXXV

  The entourage that slipped quietly from Captain Morgana’s house moved at a good pace on the road to the north. The route led to the seaport towns that were eight days journey to the north and west of Rome. It was generally well traveled. Marius had no difficulty following the troop of Roman soldiers escorting Teresa and her mother, Marianna.

  Just before they left the outskirts of Rome, Marius moved in with a small group of people, peeking through a cowl until Teresa neared him. Staring intently at her, he exposed his face. Their eyes met. Hers flashed in recognition. Marius turned and disappeared. “Was it enough to alert Teresa that he would come for her?” Marius wondered.

  But, he knew, the biggest hurdle would be Marianna. She would be close-by her daughter, and whether or not she would approve of their elopement would not be known until Marius faced her in their tent.

  Just before darkness fell, the troupe stopped. They set up the guard, had their evening meal, and retired.

  Marius waited several hours until the soldiers by the fire grew silent before he slipped to Teresa’s tent. He closed his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then slit the back of the tent and peered in. A guard, seated on the ground, his back to the ridgepole, was gently snoozing. Right by Marius was Marianna, Teresa was on the other side of the guard.

  Marius stared hard at Teresa through the tent, dimly lit by the fire. Her eyes blinked open, and she looked back at Marius. He put one hand through the slip and pointed to Marianna, and shook his head. Teresa slowly sat up, and raised both hands indicating she did not know what to do.

  That’s when Marius looked down and saw Marianna staring at him.

  Marius put his finger to his lips and raised his eyebrows.

  Teresa’s eyes snapped wide open as she watched her mother look at her, and then at Marius.

  Marianna reached over and shook the guard awake. Marius and Teresa each held their breath.

  The guard grunted and snorted and looked at Marianna now sitting up. “I must go to the bathroom! Let me out!”

  The guard got up, undid the flap, and stepped outside the tent to stretch and yawn.

  Teresa bundled her bedding together, and sidl
ed over to the slit in the tent. Marius helped her through, and together stole into the night to where Antonius was guarding the horses for them. The three of them, with a packhorse, headed to the west then took an alternate route to the south.

  Hours later at their first stop, Marius took Teresa into his arms. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come?”

  “No, my sweet, I was afraid you wouldn’t come!”

  Marius introduced Antonius to Teresa. He explained to the boy how at a better time he would tell him the story of Beatrice, his mother.

  “Aren’t you concerned my father will have his troops on our trail?” Teresa asked.

  “Yes,” Marius said, “that was a big concern on my part. So, to give us time to get far away I hired a young couple that more or less resembled us and sent them on to the north. It will be several days before they’re found. In the meantime, they will not be looking for a young couple with a boy. We’ll lose ourselves in the south.”

  “Where are we going?” Teresa asked.

  “We have one stop to make to visit an old friend before we go to the island of Sicilia where there are some friends who I believe will take us in and protect us.” He was thinking of Augustus of the caravan, and Claudio and Clemina.

  By the time they found Augustus, Marius had told Teresa and Antonius in great detail everything that had happened to him from the night with Beatrice until the luncheon with Captain Morgana and Marianna.

  Augustus ordered a banquet of the best of everything he had in his home for them. His wife, Minet, dressed Teresa in her finest clothes, and ordered a new tunic and sandals for Antonius.

  XXXVI

  It was late in the afternoon when Augustus offhandedly signaled Marius to meet him by the grape arbor. Augustus carried a beaker of wine and cups. It appeared merely as a time for a casual chat with a friend.

  “Sought you are,” Augustus said. “Word from Rome reports in search of the three of you a troop of Roman soldiers is about to depart. There is reason? Easily you may hide here, just know that.”