by Simon Rumney
He watched his hand gently brush the strawberry blond hair from her eyes as she lowered herself to sit with him and even this spontaneously intimate act seemed right. After a long period of silence the purpose of their meeting seemed to have been fulfilled and she instinctively rose to leave. Robert filled her bucket and placed the rope handle in her most beautifully formed hand. He then watched her walk away carrying the water and felt there was something very significant about this girl’s unhindered return to her life in the groves.
Wondering about the implications of what had just transpired Robert was forced by the growing heat to find shade under an old olive tree where he sat until the shortening shadows told him it was time to return to his men. When he placed his hand on the ground to lift himself to his feet the edge of a metallic object pushed against his finger. Brushing away the dry soil Robert saw what looked vaguely like the hilt of a dagger completely eaten by rust. Cleaning away the years of dirt and decay the piece fell apart in his hand and without a thought for its origin Robert casually discarded the dust and walked back to the ancient road which the Romans called the Via Aurelia.
The pitch black horses seemed restless as he walked out of the trees and his already mounted men were obviously very happy to see him return. Having fixed the coach they were all worried that something may have happened to him and Robert was touched by their concern, it was very clear that they truly loved their battle-hardened Captain.
Touching his empty holster Robert realized that he had left his pistol by the well. It did not matter because there were spare weapons in every locker on the coach so giving a shrug he said, “Let’s make all haste for Rome lads.” Then spontaneously added, “We must travel at the gallop!”
There was no real urgency but traveling at speed seemed like the correct thing to do. Braithwaite did not question the order he just whipped the horses to a foaming gallop and concentrated only on the task in hand. Passing very old villas and houses in the Italian countryside provoked flashes of familiarity for Robert but entering the gates outside the city of Rome felt like a homecoming.
Exhausted tired and hungry they clip-clopped through the dark streets until they found the home of Anton. It was a huge high-walled structure near the river Tiber and Sergeant Major Alfrey dismounted and knocked on the solid wooden door, which was opened by a housemaid holding an oil lamp.
Lights started appearing at every window as the household was roused to greet their guests. Anton had been expecting Robert and his party for some days and had left instructions to be woken upon their arrival. While standing in their nightshirts the family welcomed their son’s old Cambridge friend and his cohorts warmly. After a light supper the friendly housemaid showed Robert and his men to rooms in various parts of the house. The old home was truly vast and each man was given a room of his own.
After settling in and getting to know the family, Robert spent days walking through the old city with his men looking at the places he seemed to know intimately. The lads were fascinated with his explanations of the old roads, columns, buildings and ruins. They loved the stories attached to even the smallest of stones and as fighting men they connected with the honor of the conflicts depicted on so many structures.
Visiting the Circus Maximus, Robert explained the bloody mayhem that had taken place down on the racetrack over many hundreds of years. Leading his men down to the archaeological dig under the great stand Robert experienced a bitter paradox. Expecting to find pleasure in the place where Mr Woods found his beloved amulet, he found unimaginable physical pain. Just entering the dank space made his body, head even fingernails ache. Unable to understand the hurt, Robert had to leave the cold and violent room. Sensing his discomfort the men caringly supported his return to the sunlight.
When the time came for them to leave they were all sad but their departure could no longer be delayed because the 92nd Highlanders were disbanding and the men had been ordered back to Paris for demobilization.
It was a cheerless farewell with grown men fighting back tears but Robert made their trip home a lot easier by giving them the coach, the horses, the weapons and enough money to get everything home to Scotland where such things still fetched a pretty penny. His final words had been to extract a promise from each that they would use the proceeds of the sale to buy smallholdings for the future of their families and they all gladly gave their words.
Once alone, Robert began his search for an answer to his troubled life and during his wandering he found places that felt like home. Day after day he was drawn to places like the fruit and vegetable markets where he would stand and watch the men trundling their barrows across the cobblestones. Robert felt close to these nocturnal people, with their leather aprons and always found an element of peace as he listened to the droning voice of the auctioneer.
These phantom memories of having been in Rome before were now commonplace and Robert was becoming more and more resigned to the feeling, which had once frightened him. He no longer saw them as odd nor feared for his sanity, he simply wanted to understand the emotions, which had set him apart from others and scarred his life.
Clarity
One morning, as the respectful house servants served Anton his usually lavish breakfast, Robert plucked up the courage to share the thoughts he had been keeping close to his chest since the riverbank at Cambridge. Fear of being thought a sorcerer or a warlock had compelled him to keep his intimate knowledge of Sulla and Gaius Marius hidden away but newfound feelings of security were allowing him to trust both himself and others for the very first time.
Between sips of coffee, and more modest mouthfuls of breakfast, Robert spoke about the great men’s history changing lives in amazing detail. He understood the motivation behind their many conflicts. He knew incredible minutiae that had never been published in any history book. He even knew the real reason why the Senate banished Sulla from Rome; yet everything after that moment became completely strange to him.
“88BC?” There was more than a little surprise in Anton’s reply.
“Exactly,” confirmed Robert.
“My family have always referred to that year as both the terrible time and the best time,” continued Anton. “It was the year of our success but also the year Sulla returned to Rome, massacred many Senators and occupied Rome with his legions.”
“The year Rome’s streets ran red with blood,” interjected Robert. “I know what the history books tell us but, unlike the years leading up to 88BC, the events of that year feel completely unfamiliar to me. I know that Sulla turned for Rome at the very moment his army boarded ships bound for the Mithridatic War, but I have no idea why.”
Anton stopped chewing and looked at Robert. After a moments thought he turned and politely dismissed his servants. Waiting for the black-clad men to leave the room he could not resist just a little more of the cold meats, delicate cheeses and wood-fired bread. Much to Robert’s frustration there was a long pause for chewing and swallowing before Anton continued with the suspenseful words: “What I am about to tell you has never been heard by anyone outside my immediate family.” Being uncharacteristically hesitant, he added: “88BC was the year our founder Antonius moved from having nothing to becoming the biggest provider of foodstuffs in all of Italy.”
“In just one year’s time?” Robert’s surprise was heard in his tone: “How can that be?”
Once again, Anton paused before saying. “My family has always been too ashamed to speak of it but the truth is Antonius had a benefactor.”
“Ashamed?” asked Robert unable to understand why Anton would struggle with such an innocuous fact. “Who of us can honestly say they have not received support at one time or another?”
Mopping his lips with a linen napkin Anton bought a little more time to find the right words. “More than a benefactor. You see, the truth is our founder Antonius was simply given all of this.” Anton paused for a sip of freshly squeezed orange juice. His words were not coming easily. “I think this will be made simpler for me if I sho
w you.”
After a little more breakfast, Anton led an impatient Robert through the house and down a very old case of stone stairs. Finding a hidden key above a rafter, Anton unlocked the heavy wooden door to a vast stone vault. It was a very dry and very well-organized space at the very bottom of the house. The temperature inside was permanently cool which explained why Anton had insisted Robert bring his winter tailcoat.
Looking around the room, Anton pointed out the many wonderful old artifacts lining the walls. He knew the history of ancient helmets with faded horsehair plumes, swords, shields, spears and ancient weaponry of all kinds. He knew everything about the valuable paintings hanging on the walls and the ancient ceramics which sat in beautiful presentation cabinets wherever Robert looked. On shelf after shelf sat buckets of well cared for rolls of parchment and books of all kinds and ages. Picking up a silver breastplate in the shape of a powerful man’s torso Anton spoke in a solemn voice: “This is the thing I have brought you here to see.”
“It seemed so familiar to me.” Robert was clearly moved by the object. “Could I have seen it somewhere before?”
“That is simply not possible.” Anton handed the silver armor to Robert. “It has been hidden within this collection for over two thousand years. Not a soul outside my family has ever seen it during that time.”
Holding the silver carapace with cautious reverence Robert asked, “How did your family come by such a valuable object?”
“That is the crux of it,” said Anton, still a little tentative. “It was given to our benefactor in gratitude for a deed well done.”
“A deed?” wondered Robert turning the breastplate. “What deed could possibly warrant something so valuable?”
“Our benefactor rode through the night with the very information that halted Sulla’s departure.”
“Just who was this well-informed man?” Robert tried to make the silver breastplate fit his body as he spoke.
“Well-informed woman,” corrected Anton. “Clitumna Livia Drusus. Sulla’s savior.”
The breastplate clattered to the stone floor as this strange name struck spontaneous shock and fear in Robert. The sudden weakness in his knees compelled him to sit. Not wanting to risk his weight on any of the ancient furniture, he fell to the floor with no idea why the name had such an untoward impact on him.
“Are you ill?” enquired a concerned Anton, kneeling by his dear friend’s side.
“I have no idea,” replied Robert in a beaten tone.
“I will summon help.” With those words Anton was gone.
Alone in this cold place, surrounded by artifacts, Robert felt isolated and vulnerable. The woman’s Latin name provoked visceral feelings of defeat, fear and deep loss. Once again, someone else was raging inside him and this time Robert truly feared for his sanity. The optimism so acutely felt at Waterloo was now completely spent and he knew that his obscure misery would have to end.
Without waiting for Antonius’s return, Robert stood up and walked from the vault. An hour later he was booked on the first ship leaving for Canada and a battle, any battle, that would bring him his longed-for tranquility.
That night he hoped to find a little calm in the recurring dream of himself standing on the foredeck of a sailing ship with Julia. Crossing the imaginary blue ocean had offered feelings of comfort since Belgium, but now it was simply a restless interval between the pain of night and the time daylight brought him back to his miserable existence.
During the sad days between the revelations in the vault and his ship’s departure, Robert killed time with endless wandering. Everything in Rome had become tainted by that woman’s name but, like an addict, he felt unable to stop punishing himself with the sights of the city. He could feel it destroying him but the unknown force dragged him from street to streets searching for God knows what.
These miserable daily journeys were always brought to a wine-sodden crescendo in exactly the same place. Whatever it was that drove him to the Circus Maximus always forced him to sit in exactly the same seat with exactly the same terracotta jug of red wine. There were hundreds of rows but one stone seat in particular attracted him. Any attempt to move caused deep upset so it was simply no longer worth the pain of trying.
On the sunny afternoon of the day his ship was set to depart for Canada, Robert paid one last visit to the Circus Maximus. Walking to his regular seat in the stand he found a woman’s handbag lying by itself completely unattended.
Looking around the arena, he could see no one. The appearance of the bag was a mystery. It had to be moved if he was to sit in his normal position but sliding the bag with his foot caused it to spill open.
Like a ship being launched into the sea out slid the amulet. It felt surreal and to make things even more out of the ordinary there was a letter addressed to Robert in Mr Woods’ very familiar handwriting.
Instinctively sliding the gold band onto his hand Robert noticed a woman entering from the rear of the Senatorial seating area accompanied by Anton. Her back was turned towards him but there was something achingly familiar about her. Mesmerized by the woman, he watched her, seemingly searching for someone, or something, in the stands.
Applying pressure to the rigid amulet Robert tried to force it over his knuckles as the woman slowly turned to face him. Recognition provoked surges of pure emotion. Perspiration cascaded over every inch of his skin and the gold band gave way all at once landing directly over his birthmark.
Robert was instantly cast back in time. He experienced feelings of becoming the same person who controlled him while walking in a trance from the square at Waterloo. All around him stood thousands of people dressed in the style of ancient Rome cheering at the top of their voices.
Looking down he noticed that he was dressed in the same Roman manner and, with great surprise, he realised his hands had become those of a woman. He was a completely different human being.
Beside him stood a fat man who looked like Anton and a maternal woman who he knew intimately. It was Nanny Parks. She was also dressed in the style of ancient Rome; her hair was different but, there could be absolutely no doubt, it was his beloved Nanny. He wanted to embrace her but yet again, he had become a mere observer in his body while someone strange, yet familiar, used it to play out an unknown role.
Robert was horrified to see gladiators committing bloody murder down on the racetrack below and such a humane reaction surprised him. In battle he had seen and done far worse acts of violence ...
The face of a young man looking at him from the crowd stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks. It was the face on the statue, his face, and floods of uncontrollable guilt pulsed through the very frightened mind within. He knew that his alter ego was torn between feelings of love and guilt for the young man, but did not understand how or why.
Robert recognised the great Sulla instantly as the woman inside him moved his gaze. Standing at the front of the Senators seating area Sulla’s silver breastplate flashed in the bright sunlight. With a growing sense of panic, Robert experienced the wave of emotions provoked by very same object in Anton’s family vault.
Much to Robert’s amazement he watched the ornately clad General leave the Senatorial box and make his way through the crowd in his direction. The emotions of the being who controlled his senses were now on the very edge of panic as Sulla stood before him looking hard into her eyes. Robert experienced the turmoil of confused feelings which the woman inside him felt for this man; it charged through his veins like fire.
As Sulla kissed the woman within, Robert felt his ever-present pain lift like a curtain from his heart. The things that wronged this woman were being righted by one simple, but much longed for, act of kindness.
With pleasure replacing pain, Robert was returned to himself, standing in an empty Circus Maximus being kissed by his Julia. As her lips moved on his, the hollow, sad, lonely feeling in his heart evaporated.
“Robert, my love.” Julia’s words were both a statement and a question.
�
�Julia, my love.” There was absolutely no hesitation or doubt in Robert’s reply.
Julia’s relief was made clear in her happy smile.
“Your mama and papa both long to see you again, Robert. They have booked our passage home. If you are willing to accompany me, we sail tomorrow on the noon tide.”
“I would like that very much.” Robert was extremely relieved to feel his words ring true. The pain, guilt and general malaise he had always felt was now completely gone, erased by someone or something unknown.
With the extraordinary feeling that more than two people had found calm this day, Robert looked into Julia’s eyes and returned her lifesaving kiss with interest.