The Beast of Verona: Book I of the Decimus Trilogy

by Sheritta Bitikofer

  “How old do you believe I am, Caprasia?” he asked.

  She shrugged. “Perhaps a few years older than myself.”

  Decimus gravely shook his head. “Nowhere close.”

  “You couldn’t be close to my father’s age. You don’t have any silver hair.”

  He looked back to her. “I’m even older than your father.” He waited for the shock to wear off. “I’m older than his villa. I’m older than anyone or anything you know. I’m almost as old as this city.”

  She shook her head frantically. “It’s not possible.”

  “But, it is, Caprasia. I was born over two hundred years ago. I don’t age the same as you and others do. I age slowly, very slowly.”

  “How? Are you the son of a god? Son of Mars like Romulus and Remus?”

  Decimus wanted to laugh at her naivety. He had long ago heard of the legend of the two founders of Rome who were nursed by a she-wolf in the wilderness. “I do not believe in the gods, Caprasia.”

  “Then how can you be as old as you claim and age so slowly?”

  “I don’t know the exact reason. I am cursed, like my father before me and his father before him. I was born this way, Caprasia, and I don’t know how it all began. All I know is what I am today.”

  Decimus shifted on the bed, wishing that this conversation were easier for both of them. “I can hear things that no normal man can, as well as see and smell over great distances. I can run faster and leap higher than any other animal. Within me, there is an animal. I don’t know how to explain, but my very essence is half man and half beast. That night under the ludus, you saw a glimpse of that beast in my eyes. It hungers for meat constantly. If I’m not careful and eat to its satisfaction, I become weak and dangerous as you saw me before.”

  He swallowed hard. “Once during the cycle of the moon, the beast can no longer be contained by this human form and I change into the very thing that I share my life with. That night when I had to leave so suddenly from your home, the change was upon me. If I had stayed, the beast would have killed you and your father, as well as your slaves.”

  Caprasia’s expression was a mix of horror and fascination. He had expected screaming, perhaps fainting. She digested the truth surprisingly well.

  “I have kept my secret for this long and if anyone knew, I’d be hunted down in the streets and killed.”

  “Can anything kill you?”

  “No sword can kill me. But, silver is lethal. The mere touch of it to my skin burns like hot coals. I suppose if someone were to sever my head from my shoulders that would kill me. But, I’m not in a hurry to find out.”

  Caprasia’s gaze was far away as if she were imagining what the beast looked like. Nothing her imagination concocted could approach the truth. She would have to see for herself, but Decimus was not willing to put on a show for her. He was done with spectacles.

  Several long silent moments passed between them and Decimus waited for her to say something, anything.

  She looked back to him and nodded. “Thank you for telling me the truth.”

  Decimus smirked at the coldness in her words. “You don’t seem nearly as captivated by me now that you know.”

  Caprasia’s lips parted as if she would say something to contradict him, but then she turned away again, silent and pensive.

  “I will leave when you no longer want me here. I understand your father would have me here to stay permanently if he had his way.”

  The violent switch in her emotions caught him unguarded. “I don’t want you to go. Stay here with me,” she begged. Her hands were on his arms, nails digging into his skin. Caprasia hung onto him as if her life depended on it and if she loosened her grasp on him, he would flutter away with the wind.

  “I can’t stay here forever, Caprasia. I can’t stay in any place too long. People will see as they grow wrinkles and silver hair that I haven’t changed. They would become suspicious of me.”

  Caprasia seemed to understand and let her fingers rest. “But, don’t you want to stay?”

  “This is not my home, Caprasia. I must find a home for myself.”

  Decimus wished there was some way to reach her. If only he could blow away the fog of selfishness that has enveloped her mind, he could awaken the understanding woman underneath. Her compassionate nature was there somewhere, masked by her desires for him. If she truly cared, she would release him, knowing it was best for everyone.

  Another tear dropped from the corner of her eye and she did not shy away from Decimus’s hand as he wiped it away from her silky cheek. “Someday, you are going to make one man a very happy husband. But that man won’t be me… Do you understand?”

  Caprasia squeezed her eyes shut against his words, rejecting them with all her childish stubbornness. Decimus would not lead her on or give her false hopes. There were too many broken hearts in the world as it was.

  “Promise me you won’t forget me?” she pleaded, her voice grew shrill with more impending tears.

  Decimus smiled. How could he forget her? He may have not loved her, but he would never forget the way she had helped him win his freedom. It was her face in the sea of spectators that brought back his humanity and will to fight back the animal that he was. “I vow that I will never forget you, long past my dying breath.”

  Caprasia looked upon him with renewed joy and embraced him about the neck. It was a harmless hug; one a child would give to an elderly uncle. Decimus gladly returned it, savoring the warmth of her body. He hadn’t been touched this way in many years.

  Decimus heard the approaching footsteps of Quintus and gently pulled Caprasia out of his arms. “Your father’s coming,” he whispered.

  Caprasia took the hint and stood to leave, but not before stealing one last glance towards the former gladiator and smiling through her tears.

  He was left alone for a short while before Quintus made an appearance. He seemed astounded to see the invalid sitting upright.

  “Are you feeling well, my friend?” he asked in his husky, old voice.

  “Very much so, Quintus. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  The politician sat where Caprasia had been just moments before. “Think nothing of it. Where would you have gone if I had not offered you my home as a place to convalesce?”

  Decimus knew exactly where he would be. He would have fled town, washed the blood off in some forest stream and never be seen again. But instead, he smiled and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. “Your generosity knows no bounds.”

  “I know you cannot stay with us forever as my daughter wishes, but where do you plan to go once you are fully recovered?”

  “I had thought of returning home,” Decimus sighed. “But, I fear there may not be much of a home to go to.”

  Quintus clapped his hands together and grinned. “That’s precisely what I wanted to hear. I have a proposition for you.”

  Decimus turned with questioning eyes upon his host. “What do you have in mind?”

  Quintus leaned in as if to tell him a secret. “I have my hands in many pots, you may say. In Pompeii, I’ve heard that the wine business has become a favorable enterprise. It’s a wonderful trading town to make a fresh start as a merchant.”

  Decimus hardly knew what to say. “Me? A merchant? Surely you jest.”

  “No, I am completely serious, Decimus.”

  “Why Pompeii and not here or Rome perhaps?”

  “Rome is too big of a city. You’d be swallowed up in a day. Pompeii is small, but not too small. They just built an amphitheater there about a year ago, so it’s sure to expand shortly. It’s best to get your start there before it becomes a mad house. And besides, you don’t have to do this for long. Just until you earn enough to make your own way home to the north. What harm could it do to spend a few years of your life in Pompeii?”

  The old politician grinned, so confident that Decimus would take hold of his suggestion with both hands. It wasn’t so easy. Settling in a city, even a small one, meant many risks. If there were
no forests in the area, his once a month ritual would prove impossible to conceal. Constant interaction and noise would surely drive him made.

  “I have no means or resources to start a business with,” Decimus contested.

  Quintus sat back and held out his arms as if to display his status of wealth. “I could give you a loan to start out. In fact, I even have a villa there you may let from me and possibly buy one day.”

  Decimus rubbed his hand over his eyes, feeling slightly cornered. He wanted to go home, but Quintus might be on the right idea. It would be better for him to go home with his money pouch full rather than a poor man.

  The call of home would have to wait.

  “I don’t know when I’d be able to repay you,” Decimus said.

  Quintus’s voice grew shrill with excitement. “Pay me when you can, Decimus. I am in no rush. Do you see me struggling? Now that I’ve been reelected into my office, I’ll be set for some time now.”

  “Do you have allies in the city?”

  “Of course. Many, in fact.”

  “Do any of them know business?”

  Quintus turned contemplative for a moment. “No, they don’t… But,” he exclaimed with an upraised finger, “I have a slave that will be perfect for you. His name is Titus. His father was a merchant before he lost everything and they had to be sold into slavery to pay some bad debts. He knows everything about business. As my gift to you, I’ll give you Titus as well as that loan. How does that sound?”

  Decimus blinked. He had never owned another human being before and he didn’t like the idea of it. But if Titus could help him make this new start, it would be worth it to keep him on for a few years before freeing him.

  “I suppose that could work,” he said, trying not to sound too apprehensive to the man that called him friend.

  Quintus stood with a nod. “I’ll make all the arrangements.”

  He turned and when Decimus thought he was about to have a few moments alone, Quintus spun around and hurried back. “Oh, I almost forgot.”

  Decimus looked up to see Quintus produce something from his pocket. It was a piece of jewelry, a broche like pin that Decimus had seen men and women wear often. The fibula was set in gold, ornate with intricate carvings. The stone in the center was of a light amber color and carved into its surface was the depiction of a wolf.

  Quintus offered it out to him. Decimus took it and examined it from every angle, admiring its beauty and the wonderful craftsmanship. The wolf stared back at him and he couldn’t help but feel an innate attachment.

  “It’s a handsome piece of jewelry,” Decimus offered it back to Quintus, but he wouldn’t receive it.

  “Take it. It’s yours.”

  He looked back to the fibula and smirked. “Thank you… again.”

  “It will come in handy to pin your toga to your tunic while in Pompeii.”

  Quintus turned once more, but Decimus couldn’t ignore his final statement.

  “Toga? I have no toga. I’m not a Roman citizen. A retired gladiator is not granted such privileges.”

  “You are now. I had Senator Viator settle the matter for you.”

  Decimus was astonished by this man’s overwhelming kindness. He had never met a Roman with such magnanimity. If only they were all this way, then perhaps the world would not be trapped in this chaotic cycle of war and conquest. “I don’t know what to say to you, Quintus. You’re making this too easy.”

  Quintus turned to him with a wise old smile. “I’m sure you will return the favor for someone one day. I have been blessed, and now I am blessing you so you may bless others.”

  His words warmed the deep place in his heart that he had ignored for so long. Never had anyone gone out of their way to make sure he was comfortably taken care of. Yes, he would repay Quintus one day by offering what he had to someone less fortunate.

  His fingers closed over the fibula. Decimus would not let the cycle of generosity end with him.

  14

  Museo della Civiltà Romana, Rome Italy, 2015

  When Howard read aloud the last sentence of the full account of Quintus Marius Strabo regarding the gladiator called Lupus, he set the scrawled out translation on the table and stared blankly at the cluttered tabletop.

  Everything was there. He told about Decimus’s homeland, how he became a gladiator and how he earned his freedom in the arena. It mentioned nothing of the curse he and Howard shared, so he knew that it was safe for Marina to listen.

  But this wasn’t the end.

  “Wow. That’s a pretty amazing tale,” Marina said, sitting next to him on her own stool, so close that their shoulders were almost touching. Her warmth was comforting, relaxing, like a piece of home in a foreign country.

  Howard agreed, but said nothing more. He was too dazed that he had come so close to the truth and yet, he still felt like he hadn’t accomplished his goal. This was only a two year stretch of Decimus’s life. There were centuries more waiting to be uncovered, hidden somewhere in Italy or maybe in northern Europe where he hadn’t even thought to look. The key could be locked away in an archive, on display at a museum somewhere or even still buried amongst ruins. This was just scratching the surface.

  Howard thought finding the gladiator would give him satisfaction. It only left him wanting more.

  He wanted to laugh how his attitude had changed since he landed in Italy. Back then, he couldn’t wait to get home. There was nothing here that appealed to him. But now, sitting in this file room with Marina and these ruffled scraps of paper, Howard felt captivated, entranced by the culture, the people and the history. How could just a couple of weeks make such a big difference in his life?

  “Is this what you were looking for?”

  “Almost.” Howard’s voice was little more than a whisper.

  Marina sat back and he could almost feel her startled expression turn on him. “What more is there?”

  Howard felt a fire spark in him. What more? There was plenty more. “I’ve got to keep following Decimus,” he said, determination coloring his words. He looked to Marina and met her confused gaze.

  “To Pompeii like Quintus wrote about?”

  He nodded, half stunned by his own resolution. “Yes. To Pompeii.”

  She stood from her stool and began to gather up the photocopies, stretching her body over the table top a little to reach the ones in the far corners. “You know, he probably died during the eruption of Vesuvius if he stayed there for eight years.”

  Howard blinked, distracted by what she was doing. When she stood up straight and smacked the edges of the papers on the table to align them, he looked shook his head to clear the haze.

  “What?”

  “Vesuvius erupted in 79. These records were written in 71. That probably explains why we don’t have any record of Lupus fighting in the colosseum too. The colosseum was finished in 80 AD and if Decimus was still alive, he might have been summoned out of retirement to compete in the inaugural games under Emperor Titus…” She looked thoughtful. “Then again, Emperor Vespasian was the one that wanted him to battle and he died before that, so Titus may have forgotten about him.” Marina looked to Howard. “Either way, you may not find him. If he didn’t die, he could be anywhere.”

  Howard watched her confidently cock her hip to the side and rest her fist there. She was a puzzle. One moment, shy and awkward, talking endlessly about things that she thought would bore him and the next minute, blowing him away with her extensive knowledge about Rome and gladiators and everything else that he was ignorant about.

  Marina was amazing. Beautiful, smart, witty and adorable when she was nervous. Howard couldn’t help but be attracted to her. It was an uncomfortable thought, but it couldn’t be ignored.

  “But there may be some record of him in Pompeii. Maybe I could find the villa Quntus talks about. Pompeii was a time capsule, right? There’s bound to be something there that would give me a clue.”

  Marina laughed. “If they’ll let you in. Most of the artifacts have
been distributed all over the world into museums and exhibits. We even have a few pieces here from Pompeii.”

  Howard wagged his finger at her. “But, there’s still a chance that the clue could be in Pompeii.”

  He could only imagine how he looked right now. Half exhausted, eyes red, clothes wrinkled and hair disheveled. If he didn’t look like the crazy American before, he sure did now. But Marina didn’t seem to mind.

  She just shook her head doubtfully and smiled. “There may be,” she admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

  They stood there, so close and yet Howard could feel the hard truth creeping up on him. He would go to Pompeii and leave Rome behind. He’d leave Marina behind and probably never see her again.

  All of the sudden, he felt his patched up heart break within his chest for the second time this year. He didn’t know how it happened, but the feeling was unmistakable. The thought of leaving Marina was painful. Physically and emotionally painful.

  Marina’s chin fell and he could tell that she felt it too. He swallowed hard and with a shaking hand, lifted her chin up.

  Gazing into her dark brown eyes, shaded by her long eyelashes, Howard winced at the surge of emotions that he felt. They’d only been together three times while in Rome, but in all that time, he had grown to enjoy her company. Not only was she a valuable aid in his search, he wanted to consider her a friend. Without her, he would have been stumbling around the city, still lost and without a clue.

  It was then that he realized the parallel. Quintus was to Decimus as Marina was to Howard. Of course, he was sure that Quintus and Decimus did not feel the same way about each other as he and Marina did. Totally different scale.

  He smiled and let go of her chin. “I still have your number. Can I call you if I need help?”

  Marina blinked and nodded. “Absolutely. I’ll answer, night or day.”

  “Is that a promise?”

  She grinned and nodded again. “It’s a promise.”