Our Eternal Curse I

by Simon Rumney

  There were so many extraordinary individuals in the story which ended with a wooden horse full of Greek soldiers who opened the gates of the city from within, but the character who intrigued her most was Helen, whose beautiful face was said to have launched a thousand ships. She was the wife of Menelaus who sailed away with Paris, Prince of Troy, and caused the Greeks to fight for lost honor.

  Of all the passages in the old book Julia felt compelled to read and re-read the lament which Homer had chosen to finish his work. In his final sentence he explains how Helen stood beside the great warrior Hector's slain body and compared their misfortunes with the words, “These tears of sorrow that I shed are both for you and for my miserable self. No one else is left.” It was the loneliness of Helen’s words, they seemed to echo Julia’s fragile existence perfectly.

  Joseph

  Leaving the house had taken a year, simply because Julia believed herself too plain for sophisticated Roman society. The ornate polished brass mirrors should have exposed the obvious lie because Cecilia’s grooming had converted her appearance to that of a beautiful Roman woman, but she could only interpret the image staring back at her in accordance with the belief she held of herself. Julia’s mother and father had installed their negative messages so deeply, that even her dazzling reflection in the highly polished metal could not dispel their myth.

  Driven by curiosity and the encouragement of Cecilia, Julia slowly found the courage to exit the front door. Infrequently at first, she gradually roamed further each day and her confidence grew with every trip. With each week that passed Julia learned to tolerate the crowds while shopping with the housemaids and it was during these excursions that she learned the idiosyncrasies of Rome and Romans. In order to get to the markets, Julia had to join the throng as it passed along the Forum Romanum with its spectacular architecture which positively exuded power. Homer had explained that this short length of road, which stretched between the Senate House and the Great Temple of Venus and Roma, was the very center of all Roman authority. He spoke of dignified Senators convening great meetings in the white marble structure, which was also known as the Curia, to discuss and agree actions which held consequences for the whole of the known world.

  Outside the main building near the beautiful marble steps where the golden milestone was set, Julia often let the masses meander around her as she pondered the old distance marker which signified the beginning of all roads out of Rome. Legend had it that the remains of Romulus the mythical founder of Rome, who was suckled by a she wolf, lay under this stone, but Julia found it hard to imagine any of the wolves which had passed near her family hut doing anything other than eating the child. She also found it impossible to grasp the organization and motivation required to carve an inscription on every milestone throughout the Empire proclaiming how far it was from this one. Such a huge task boggled her still unsophisticated peasant mind but it did dawn on Julia that this practice had both a practical and a sinister motive. To a Roman it was a measure of distance; to an enemy it was a warning of impending doom.

  Everything about city culture was exhilarating and while Julia enjoyed the experiences she also found the crowds somewhat overwhelming. When it all became too stressful for a girl who had spent the great majority of her life in the company of just two people, Julia bolted for the sanctuary of a friendly jeweler’s shop which was situated conveniently between Sulla’s home and the food markets. It was a small shop in which she felt safe enough to rest when the noisy streets became too much and Julia enjoyed looking at the gold and silver adornments that were so beautifully handcrafted and extravagantly priced.

  One gold bangle in particular stole her attention from the very moment the jeweler removed it from the little, red felt pouch to show her. Its effect on Julia could only be described as breathtaking she seemed to know it intimately as though she had been close to it somewhere before. Julia was sure that she had never seen the heavy gold amulet with its intricately raised lions’ heads but it looked so incredibly familiar. The jeweler watched in fascination as Julia slid his amulet across her hand and on to her birthmark which fitted its shape perfectly. Neither of them spoke as Julia touched its beautifully smooth surface with the love a mother has for a child, then gently sobbing for no apparent reason, she sat staring into the beautifully raised feline heads set all around its wide face.

  The jeweler who had introduced himself as Calpurnius left her alone for many hours because it seemed like the respectful thing to do but his greedy instincts slowly niggled at him until he could no longer resist the urge to close a sale. Sitting down next to Julia he pointed at one of the lions and explained how the most valuable piece in his collection had been crafted by one of the finest goldsmiths in ancient Greece. “I acquired it from a deceased estate,” he said in the solemn voice he saved for significant negotiations. “It has a deliberately prohibitive price tag because I am extremely reluctant to let it leave my collection,” then added thoughtfully, “however as a trader I will let it go but only for a very high price.”

  Looking forward to asking her Homer about amulets, Julia studied the jeweler’s pained expression. She had observed this underselling technique in other traders in Rome. Many of them feigned reluctance to sell certain things, it was as though they were doing the customer a favor and it made little sense to a girl with a sharp mind. Surely if a trader is in business to trade then he must trade. If he says he is reluctant, he must be lying and this simple string of logic led Julia to conclude that all traders are liars who cannot be trusted; a cynical but safe conclusion.

  As she formulated her theory about the morality of traders, Calpurnius went on to describe the processes involved in making such a breathtaking object while Julia clutched it lovingly in her pretty hands. “Look here,” he said, pointing at one of the lions, “see how each individual hair in the mane is clearly defined? That is the sign of a true artisan.” Then taking it gently from Julia he rotated the amulet as he explained, “The goldsmith first handcrafted an original of the work in beeswax. The wax original is then set in a box which is filled with gently packed, very fine sand. A rod which touched the wax original was also packed in to the sand and when the mold was gently heated the wax melted and ran out of the hole left by the rod. The space left by the wax was then filled with molten gold poured through the same hole. The process assures that only this one exists because the mold must be broken to retrieve the piece and the wax is no more. A copy can never be made for as long as one is in possession of the original and that makes this object unique and incredibly valuable.”

  As Calpurnius handed it back, Julia reconnected with its energy which seemed to provide feelings of strength and security. She asked if he could also feel it but he just shrugged his shoulders. Looking closely at the six lion heads which surrounded the amulet’s wide face, Julia noticed that all possessed the same intricate standard of workmanship but each was different from the other. She also became aware that each lion possessed an individual personality and was surprised to realize that they inspired the feelings of love which had not been felt since the death of her brother Robertus. Every face provoked the familiarity of a sibling and even though she was unable to understand why this bangle had such a powerful influence, Julia instinctively let down her guard and allowed herself to connect with its power.

  Two days a week at first, then three, then five and eventually every day Julia returned to try on her “lions” but much to her and Calpurnius’s constant frustration, had no money with which to buy them. As reluctant to part with the amulet as he was, the jeweler had done his best to sell it. During her earlier visits he even suggested a system of payments but much to his amusement Julia did not even know what money was.

  As her obsession with the amulet grew, Calpurnius told Julia that her behavior was unhealthy, but nothing dampened her enthusiasm. She seemed fixated and completely unable to control the urge to rekindle the feelings of sanctuary that only her lions could bring. Being a practical man he realized that her vis
its were not going to stop, so eventually gave up trying to prevent her inevitable disappointment.

  Having reconciled himself to her constant attendance he justified her compulsion by saying, “Anyway what harm can an eye-catching woman do in a jeweler’s shop?”

  As always Julia’s dysfunctional mind found a way to interpret his flattery in a negative way. After all he was a trader and she had seen traders telling ugly customers how beautiful they looked, therefore traders could never be relied on to tell the truth.

  Whenever she felt strong enough, Julia made her way from the jeweler’s shop to the Cuppedenis market, which was the most interesting bazaar in all of Rome. Traders of every nationality journeyed from all over the empire to do business at this place because it was where all luxury goods, grown or manufactured were sold.

  The aromas were sumptuous, the languages exotic and the clothes worn by the foreigners spectacular to look at. Shimmering colors dyed into the different styles of garments were as exciting as the strange talking birds tethered above many of the brightly striped awning-covered tables which displayed the most wonderful wares and Julia soon learned to enjoy walking from one fascinating stool to the next.

  It was under the shade of gently flapping canvas that she tried her first taste of exotic spices. The short somewhat ugly man with the knowing eyes, standing behind his table handed her a small quantity of something he referred to as, “his precious pepper.” Remembering her embarrassment at the jeweler’s shop Julia explained that she had no money but he wanted no payment in return for what turned out to be one of his most expensive commodities. Just for as long as she stood at his place of business the Jewish man who introduced himself as Joseph would chat and allow Julia to taste his interesting flavors. Even while serving a customer he was always happy enough just to talk and not about anything in particular, just idle chatter seemed fine by him.

  These visits eventually became a regular ritual for Julia who always received a small amount of pepper or a spice from places she had read about in her teacher’s books. Never did any money change hands and she always learned something new from the kind man who seemed so trustworthy and dependable. She thought of him as a wonderful man who never seemed to mind how long she stayed by his stool, he was never negative or condescending, just positive and happy to talk on any subject.

  Over time Julia grew to confide in her friend telling him the hidden intimacies of her childhood, even about Robertus’ death and after three years of visiting his stall Julia felt a bond had been forged between them. He was without doubt a trader who could be completely trusted and someone to who she could divulge her innermost fears and secrets.

  Building on the small element of trust inspired by Joseph’s calm and supportive behavior, Julia began to look for other encouraging influences in her life and when observed through secure thoughts, it became obvious that the actions of Cecilia, Homer and even Calpurnius were not something to be suspicious of, but the heartening acts of friends.

  This realization both shocked and pleased Julia who understood that her fear of being hurt had prevented even her supporters from penetrating her defenses. Joseph had opened a door to a world which Julia had no idea existed. Some people could be trusted; life did not have to be spent in sad anticipation of the next act of mental abuse and her awakening made Julia laugh out loud as she walked home.

  What a day. The ability to trust was going to change everything, Sulla would be home soon and Julia was determined to impress him with her academic achievements. Even her assimilation into Roman society would please him and something as unattainable as happiness now appeared possible.

  Homecoming

  With no warning Sulla walked in and sat down on the couch opposite Julia as she quietly stitched her tapestry. His eyes stared out from the caked dust of a long road home. Cecilia poured him a goblet of wine and there he sat without speaking, just sipping and looking at Julia. Her heart pounded like a hammer in her chest and completely unable to speak she stared back in excited shock.

  He was still so handsome and the love which had lain dormant for so long surged through her as he drained his goblet, placed it on the floor by his foot, then stood and walked deliberately over to the motionless form. Julia’s needle was still poised exactly as it had been at the moment he re-entered her life and as he lifted her effortlessly into his powerful arms Julia feared her rapidly beating heart might fail.

  It was not an act of love but one of violence. The pain as he penetrated her was an ugly thing and nothing that took place that evening matched her girlish fantasy of love. He had no idea that she was a virgin and if he had bothered to think about it he would not have cared. Julia was stock, just like the cattle and sheep on any of his many estates. It would not even have occurred to him that his act of pure masculine aggression would sever her final shred of trust and self-esteem. There was simply no time for irrelevant trivia, he had a report to deliver in the Senate.

  Cecilia had known what was about to happen as she poured the wine. She could see it in Sulla’s eyes. She had seen that look before and it resembled an animal driven by a very basic instinct. Standing patiently by the front door Cecilia could do nothing but wait for Sulla to leave and the moment he silently passed her on his way out she dashed to the sitting room to find Julia lying on the floor exactly where he had left her. The wretched girl had a look of complete shock on her face. Her pure white skirt made crimson with her own blood was lifted above her waist and lay crumpled on her belly. Kneeling down Cecilia moved the hem gently to cover her blood stained loins. This is how it had been for her years before and her memory of humiliation was as clear as the day it happened.

  Julia could remember nothing after Sulla left her lying on the cold stone floor. From the moment he took her in his arms until the moment he left had been a few minutes, but to Julia it seemed endless and ongoing. Crying for many days, she wanted to die. The only reason she found the strength to survive was purely and simply due to the kindness of Cecilia and her belief in the decency of Joseph. Without these two steadfast elements Julia would have quietly laid her head down and let go, but faith gave her just enough courage to raise herself from her stupor and walk to the Cuppedenis. Julia trusted her true friend Joseph who always gave dependable advice; he would know what to do.

  Her arrival at the little spice stall was accompanied by feelings of relief because Julia felt confident that Joseph’s explanation would help extinguish the terrible pain within, but much to her surprise and disappointment he looked deeply troubled himself. He had never been too busy to talk before but this day he hardly acknowledged her presence.

  “Is there a problem?” she asked with genuine concern. “Can I help?”

  “No there is nothing you can do,” said Joseph with his eyes lowered and the sound of total dejection in his voice.

  “What is it?” asked Julia trying to forget her own pain in the interest of helping her dear friend.

  “Nothing,” was all he said.

  “Please. Tell me. If I can, I would like to help.”

  While serving a customer Joseph glanced at Julia. Her sincerity was compelling. “Six months ago there was an uprising in my homeland of Judea,’ he explained without looking up from his stall. “And whenever there is an uprising in the empire there are reprisals. I have only recently heard from others of my country that the rebellion was unmercifully put down by the Roman Proconsul. Now I have no idea what has become of my wife and children or what will become of me, a Jew living in Rome.’

  Julia was shocked to hear that Joseph had a wife and children because the man she thought of as a surrogate father had never mentioned having a family. Thinking back through her years of talking to Joseph, Julia realized that the only information he had ever volunteered was as a direct response to a question posed by her and as this thought deepened she noticed a man standing at the stall who was furtively touching a spice jar but looking intently at her. What was different? Julia realized that the change was in Joseph’s behavior.
He had not gestured for the customer to purchase the spice as he usually did, so the man just stood staring. All too quickly Julia realized how Joseph had been using her as bait, she was a freak, she knew that because people always stared.

  She turned to look at Joseph at the moment he raised his head, their eyes met and both knew what the other was thinking. Julia said nothing she simply turned and walked away. There were no more tears, what was happening was a confirmation of what she already knew deep in her heart, no one can be genuinely trusted.

  Sulla’s Parade

  Victory parades were extremely rare events given only to those who had won greatness for Rome and the only time an army was allowed within the walls of the city. Roman Senators believed in the democratically elected Republic and hated raising one man above all others but tradition dictated that Sulla must be given his day of honor so a parade had been organized to welcome him home. The Senators resented his popularity as he rode proudly in the very chariot which had carried Julia to Rome but were absolutely powerless to stop his army marching through the crowd-lined streets.

  Without so much as a thought for the girl he had so recently crushed the great general looked towards the head of the procession and watched his proud standard-bearers leading his column through the heart of the city. These lionskin-clad men carried silver eagles mounted at the tips of stout wooden poles and everyone lining the route knew that they were the bravest of the brave. Each would rather die than lose the standard entrusted to him and the combat-hardened legions that marched behind would never suffer the intolerable ignominy of being one of only a handful of legions too lose their regimental eagle in 500 years of wars.