Our Eternal Curse I

by Simon Rumney

  As herself assurance grew she became an accomplished conversationalist and an authority on the subject of Italian life. As more and more people were apparently fooled by her contrived self-belief Julia hatched a plan which grew in parallel with her poise and when she eventually told Cecilia the plot her surrogate guardian marveled at its simplicity.

  “I am the daughter of a Roman merchant from Brundisium in the south of Italy. My father was killed during the war and I am now living with my mother in Rome,” said Julia quite categorically.

  “Am I to assume that I am your mother from Brundisium?” asked a skeptical Cecilia.

  “I can be an orphan if you prefer — the Italians killed many families — mine could be just another one of them.”

  “No I believe your mother survived and traveled with you to Rome.”

  “Good I want a rich, noble Roman as a husband and for that I must be of a good Roman family.” With these words Julia had metamorphosed the psychologically damaged little girl who entered the chrysalis into a chronically damaged woman with a clearly defined purpose.

  Circus Maximus

  Circus Maximus was abuzz with two hundred thousand expectant voices driven to frenzy by the brutality of the opening events. Dead gladiators and dismembered animals lay on every part of the track and while their butchered bodies were being dragged away the multitude bayed for the great chariot race to begin. This time the Senate had picked the rabbles faltering mood and hastily arranged a holiday to distract their feeble minds from the lack of food, social unrest and even more exorbitant taxes.

  All too soon the euphoria of beating the Marsi had worn off and with the treasury almost emptied by war, the people were having to bear the cost of sending armies all around the world themselves. All Romans understood the old adage, speculate to accumulate, but they hated scrimping while they’re supposedly elected Senators continued to live like kings. Austerity would have been the logical course of action but in their usual style and by way of a quick fix the Senate arranged a day at the Circus and wine by the wagonload. Their simple plan was to get the populace plastered and hope like hell that revenue would be returning from the empire before the metaphorical hangover wore off.

  Sitting near the Senatorial box in a state of shock Julia could hardly believe what had just transpired. She and Cecilia were attending the Circus as guests of Gavius, their friendly oil merchant, and until the gladiatorial carnage began, Julia had innocently believed that they were there simply to watch a chariot race. How could she reconcile the wonderful images in the stands with slaughter on the track? Even now the beautifully colored fans which waved in the hands of brightly dressed spectators looked like giant butterflies flapping over a meadow of flowers while below them, bullock teams dragged away vile scenes from the underworld.

  Feeling quite nauseated Julia turning to her tremendously obese oil merchant to ask, “What drives these clearly sophisticated people to enjoy such a primitive spectacle?”

  Looking a little put out Gavius replied, “Gladiatorial combat is a very old and sacred part of our tradition. For hundreds of years two slaves have fought to the death at the funeral of their master.”

  “Looking around me I see sophistication within all forms of Roman life but this?” Julia was finding herself lost for words.

  Seeing the look of horror on Julia’s face the fat man was clearly trying to understand her point of view and said in a sympathetic tone, “It is simply a part of our civilization.” And, “It has grown into a very big business.”

  “Do all Romans fight like this?”

  “By the heavens no!” Just the thought of such a thing covering him in sweat.

  His explanation had not justified the Roman blood lust but combining cruelty with big business had hit a nerve with Julia. She thanked Gavius politely and turned back towards the track for another look at hell to find herself looking into the face of a very handsome young officer standing ten rows down towards the track. As though caught in a beam of light he stood motionless just staring at her through big brown eyes.

  Fighting back her customary anger Julia chose this moment to test Cecilia’s credibility. He is not staring because I am a freak she told herself reluctantly, he is staring because I am beautiful. Unable to really believe her own thoughts Julia smiled a wonderful smile which to her pleasure and amazement sent the good-looking young man even deeper into an obviously helpless stupor.

  Delighted by the success of her newfound power Julia lifted her fan in the coy manner she had seen other women employ and as she practiced being bashful Julia’s attention was drawn to her right. Everyone but she and the helpless young man were now looking in that direction. Having turned to see what she was missing Julia’s heart skipped a beat and sudden fear charged through her body. The cause of the people’s interest was Sulla who stood motionless at the front of the Senatorial box and the applause he provoked built gradually until it reached thunderous proportions. Fighting to control her panic Julia calmed herself with the realization that her face would appear as just one of many in the crowd and while she could see him clearly he would be unable to single her out.

  How fantastic he looked wearing his military dress uniform instead of his Senatorial toga like all of the others in the box. Even through her anger and hatred she found his appearance truly mesmerizing. If only he had not broken her heart? If only he loved her as she loved him? If only he would walk through the crowd and make everything better but she knew in her heart that he wasn’t going to do that. The truth was he had broken her heart and it was inevitable that he was going to hurt her again and the thought of it made her very angry.

  Wailing inside Julia admired how the red tunic draped with thongs of leather showed off his well-formed legs perfectly. His manservant had obviously polished the silver body armor because at certain angles its shine became quite blinding. A brilliant crimson cloak hung from two metal rings on either side of his breastplate and flowed dramatically over his broad shoulders. His ivory-handled sword hung from a pure white, leather, shoulder strap which crossed his body and on his head he wore the grass crown made by his soldiers on the day of his greatest victory. It was the ultimate accolade for a Roman general given only to those whose actions saved an army and all of the people in the crowd knew it. He looked like one of the great Gods of Rome and at that very moment Julia knew he would be arrogantly comparing himself to Mars God of War.

  Her lovelorn anger was compounded by the way he smiled humbly and let the accolades of the people wash over him. Why could they not see through this act? Was she the only one who knew he didn’t have a humble bone in his spectacular body?

  Julia knew Sulla would have been working on his speech for days because he needed to make a good impression. Julia also knew that he wanted to become one of this year’s two Consuls of Rome and a great speech today would impress the Senators who were to vote in the election. Watching his beautiful lips forming their first word Julia became suspended by his charisma, she felt herself longing to hear his voice, but before he could deliver his bid for power a spontaneous roar filled the arena. Amplified by the shape of the Circus Maximus it was the loudest thing she had ever heard and judging by the look on Sulla’s face it also confused him greatly. Had it come at the end of his speech she could understand but why now? Then it dawned on her the attention of the crowd was focused on something else something behind him. He obviously wanted to look but feared that turning his back on the crowd would lose their attention completely. Julia guessed that curiosity must be burning within him as it became increasingly clear that he must turn or be the only person facing away from this new center of attention. At the very moment Sulla decided to make his turn the multitude let them both know what had happened to his moment of glory.

  “MARIUS!” “MARIUS!” “MARIUS!” they shouted in one voice.

  Spinning around Sulla could not believe his eyes. Incredibly there he stood supported by little Julius Caesar just standing on the top step at the back of the Senatorial
seating area, half of his body limp and his face forming its wilted scowl.

  Unbeknown to Julia, Sulla or the multitude Marius had entered the stadium at that precise moment purely by coincidence and it was the first time he had been seen in public since his second stroke. Too proud to be carried his decision to walk slowly up the stairs brought him into the stadium at the very moment of Sulla’s glory and Julia could tell that the exhausted man looked genuinely sorry for stealing Sulla’s thunder. The crowd would not be silent and because of their sheer volume other people close by the Circus Maximus picked up on their chanting. Before long the noise spread along alleyways and streets until eventually all of Rome cried: ‘“MARIUS!” “MARIUS!” “MARIUS!”

  Julia was the only one who returned her gaze to the face of Sulla and what she saw in his eyes was pure hatred and jealousy. He was outraged and for just a brief moment he was unable to hide his emotions and Julia understood immediately that when it came time to exact vengeance her best point of entry would be through the family of Gaius Marius.

  Fighting back his anger Sulla’s scowl changed to a broad theatrical smile as he walked up the steps from the speaking platform to join Marius. He could not be seen to hate the Father of Rome so at the top of the stairs he grasped Marius with both hands and kissed him dramatically on each cheek.

  The crowd erupted again; this was the best moment for everyone two heroes embracing one another on their victory holiday. The Senators all approved of what was happening, this was pure theatre, not one person in the crowd was thinking about tax or food.

  Sulla eventually delivered his speech and everyone loved its focus on optimism and the greatness of Rome he always knew what the crowd wanted to hear. The chariot race was as good as anyone could have hoped for, of the 8 charioteers in the race two died very dramatic deaths and one was maimed severely. The winner, as luck would have it, was Roman the Gods were indeed smiling on the Senators this day.

  At the conclusion of the day’s racing the Senators filed out of their place of privilege and the common people shuffled towards their exits. Julia made sure that she walked in the direction of the wide-eyed young officer who stood like a statue as the exiting crowd moved around him. His position was very inconvenient but it was obvious to all that he was not going to move for anyone. Failing in his attempt to be surreptitious he watched Julia move slowly nearer until she stood inches away but much to her surprise he said nothing. The crowd stopped moving for one brief moment but still he said nothing, his nerve completely gone. About to fall back into the old insecure belief of herself Julia’s fan dropped directly in front of him and while handing it back a nervous whisper passed his lips, “Gaius Marius.”

  “Pardon?” asked Julia.

  “My name … My name is Gaius Marius,” he was clearly terrified.

  “You don’t look like Gaius Marius.” Julia’s cheeky smile lit her face as she took the fan from his shaking hand.

  “Not the real Gaius Marius … I mean … Well, I mean to say … I’m his son.” The words blurted from his bright red face.

  “Pleased to meet you Young Gaius Marius,” replied Julia as though his information was fresh, but Julia had recognized him as the son of the great man at the very moment their eyes met. She remembered him clearly from the day she and Cecilia watched him riding in the wagon when Marius was brought back from the war.

  Cecilia was delighted by the speed and arrogance of Julia’s reply. It showed a level of confidence which had never existed before and she felt partly responsible for its existence. The role of proud mother was instinctive for Cecilia. Julia was the daughter she would never have and she desperately wanted her newfound offspring to find the love she herself had been denied. Cecilia had no idea what her innocent act of nudging Julia’s fan was about to unleash on this unsuspecting boy and eventually Rome.

  Escorting Julia and Cecilia home from the races Young Gaius came out of his shell little by little but the obvious contrast between his shy personality and the legendary extroversion of his father surprised them both. So painfully shy Young Gaius seemed far too gentle to be a Roman soldier. He freely admitted that he was no great general like his father but nonetheless he was proud to be a willing fighter for Rome.

  Julia thought of him more as an innocent boy than a fighting man as he spoke openly about his controversial political beliefs. Without a hint of caution Young Gaius explained that while moving around Italy with the army it had become clear to him that his father was correct about the tribes, Romans and Italians were one and the same. In his view the conflict had been civil war pure and simple, a war that should have been avoided by giving Roman citizenship to the leaders of the great tribes.

  As for the terrible atrocities at the end of the war Young Gaius was disgusted and frustrated that his lone voice could not prevent the carnage. He spoke openly about things that polite Romans dare not mention at this time. So many lives had been lost and no one wanted to hear that it was all in vain. Searching for gullibility in his face Julia found courage, he was not simply repeating the opinions of his father — this was a man of conviction!

  She was tempted to join in when Young Gaius talked about Italians paying Roman taxes for hundreds of years and their young men being conscripted from the age of seventeen. Julia’s father had spent many years fighting for Rome and according to her mother’s ranting had never been the same since. She agreed with his opinions but biting her lip Julia said nothing because her peasant background was something that he was never going to hear about.

  To an observer it was extremely clear that Young Gaius and Julia liked each other very much but while she respected his intelligence and reveled in the warm secure feeling his conversation stirred within she could not let herself relax. As much as she hunted for the passion that Sulla had inspired it would not come because Julia’s fragile subconscious could not risk letting her guard down a second time. Allowing love into her heart had caused nothing but pain it was simply too dangerous to even consider so this fear of emotional attachment presented a dilemma because Julia wanted to exact retribution on Sulla through the house of Marius yet hated the idea of hurting this very sensitive boy.

  When he mentioned his imminent posting to Hispania and his father’s estates in that far-off country Julia’s hunger for security and vengeance rapidly invented the illogical rationalization her defensive mind needed. If he finds someone with no worth appealing it can only mean he is also worthless and that twisted logic gave Julia’s dysfunctional subconscious the justification it required to begin her scheming.

  By the time they arrived at Sulla’s secret home Young Gaius was hopelessly in love and Julia was silently lost in the enormity of building an entirely fictional character. Saying that she was going to take on a new identity to Cecilia was a far simpler task than deceiving a real person and Julia was totally unnerved by complexity of the task ahead, but the thought of hurting Sulla and the chance of bringing her “lions” home gave her the strength and motivation to proceed.

  Nudging Julia in an embarrassed fashion Cecilia said, “Young Gaius is talking to you darling.”

  Looking at Young Gaius as though woken from a dream Julia asked, “I am sorry, please forgive me what did you say?”

  “May we meet again?” repeated Young Gaius while standing outside the front door of Sulla’s home.

  “I would like that very much,” replied Julia with a smile.

  Having bid Cecilia goodnight he kissed both on the hand and walked away smiling.

  Closing the door behind them Julia and Cecilia chatted and giggled until they noticed the fearful looks on the faces of their fellow house slaves. Sulla was home. Had he been less drunk he may have observed the fond farewell at the front door but as it was he was far too befuddled to notice anything. Sitting on a couch he looked up at Julia with the same glare that she alone had seen at the Circus Maximus. “Marius!” he boomed while tottering to his feet and weaving towards her. “Why is it always fucking Marius? I have played second fiddle to t
hat cripple of a man for years and today of all days he steals my thunder!”

  Julia gave no answer to his rhetorical question as he pushed her violently towards her sleeping chamber. Knowing what was about to happen Julia’s mind escaped like the white doves she had watched the Senators release at the Circus Maximus. Any remaining thoughts of reconciling her love were buried once and for all as Julia silently hovered above and watched Sulla abuse her detached body then fall asleep on top of her before he could finish his ungainly act of copulation.

  Cecilia rolled the comatose Sulla away from Julia’s bruised body and cradling her surrogate daughter as she wept for the injustice. Two of the strongest household slaves carried their drunken master to his sleeping chamber where they covered him carefully with a sheet and left him to his troubled night’s sleep.

  This was the first time Sulla had slept in the house for many years and all of his servants maintained a fearful vigil. None thought of sleeping as they spent the night making sure that everything in the house was in order. If he woke in the same mood they could all lose their home; even their lives. It was well within his power to have his slaves crucified for no reason whatsoever but in the morning he simply woke up and walked out of the house, he spoke to no one and noticed nothing.

  Cecilia sat with Julia stroking her hair while she slept through the night fearful of a return to her depressed state. The turmoil in Julia’s mind fueled nightmares that rocked her body and Cecilia could do nothing in the dark but cling on until Julia eventually stopped moving. Cecilia did not know it but Julia had retreated into the dream of herself standing on the deck of a ship with the handsome man and the realization that the man was, and had always been, Young Gaius.

  At dawn, a wave of relief passed though Cecilia as Julia woke up and went about her morning routine as though nothing had happened. Unbeknown to Cecilia the real Julia was now too far hidden to be affected by someone like Sulla; the new Julia could cope with anything. It was time for someone else to get hurt she was going to have vengeance in her own time and on her own terms.