Blood Crusade

by Billita Jacobsen

  “I’d rather visit the tavern than attend this stupid banquet in honor of a …foreign Queen,” Cassius said, pointing to the wooden door of a local inn. The door suddenly opened and a woman attempted to leave but was jerked back in by a hand harshly pulling on her hair.

  “I don’t think my sister would appreciate my drinking with her husband at that particular establishment,” Brutus said to his brother-in-law, Cassius, laughing. “It appears that they don’t want their patrons to leave.”

  “Greetings, fellow senators.” A pudgy face appeared behind the woman who was struggling to free herself from the tight grip on her thick, black hair. The woman’s woolen, white tunic was stained with drops of blood.

  “Help us, please!” she screamed, reminding Antony of the anguished cry of a wounded animal.

  “Claudius…” Cassius said, at a loss for words, whispering to the riders, “What is that fat fuck doing wearing a black toga?”

  A child ran past Claudius and bolted out the door, avoiding the chubby hand that finally unclasped the woman’s hair to reach for her. “Run, run, don’t stop,” the woman called out.

  “Stop her…she belongs to me!” Claudius demanded.

  Cassius directed his horse in front of the child, blocking her escape. “Go back to your master, child,” he said. The woman, now free, stumbled to the child, embracing her.

  Antony grimaced. He was a hard-nosed warrior who’d sent many to their deaths but this was somehow different. Too much like cannibalism, he thought, and people had abandoned the practice of eating their own kind long ago.

  Claudius remained in the shadow of the doorway. “Bring them to me,” he said, and then, as if reading Antony’s mind, “The mother is my main course and the child is dessert.”

  “Really, Claudius, can’t you make better use of your slaves?” Antony asked.

  “You mean like you make use of gladiators?” Claudius replied. “The law is the law. They are my property and I can do with them as I please.”

  Claudius had been a senator with little power until he was turned vampire. He regaled in his immortality now, promising senators who followed him that they could also live forever. He’d already turned three of them. Antony was well aware of the danger he posed to the Republic.

  “And yet you cannot come into the sunshine to fetch them, can you?” Antony smirked.

  “I have my friends, Cassius and Brutus, to do that for me. Don’t I?” Claudius questioned, looking in the direction of the senators who looked quite uncomfortable in the position they now found themselves.

  Antony nudged Cassius’ horse to the side and dismounted, looking into the woman’s pleading eyes. “I can’t save you both but perhaps the child?” he questioned, wondering if she would prefer that they died together.

  “Yes, oh please, sir, I will die happy knowing that my daughter will live,” she whispered, gently stoking the little girl’s hair.

  Antony pulled out a few gold coins bearing Caesar’s portrait from his pouch and tossed them in Claudius’ direction. He promptly caught them, moving so quickly that his hands were only a blur. “Claudius, I’m on my way to pay tribute to Calpurnia before going to Caesar’s banquet. That should be more than enough payment to bring Caesar’s wife another slave.”

  Claudius was the one in a bad position now. How could he refuse the orders of Caesar’s right hand man? He looked down at the coins he held. “You would deprive me of my main course?”

  “No,” Antony said, grabbing the child’s hand, “only your dessert.”

  “Uncle, wasn’t the girl my dinner?” a pale face with flaming red hair said from behind Claudius. Antony recognized Cornelia, he’d seen the child at a banquet when he first met her uncle and found him quite disgusting. The way he grabbed at the girl and forced her to sit on his lap made Antony uneasy. He’d heard rumors that she’d been turned into a vampire. The evil proof was now before him.

  “Quiet, girl, we can share dinner,” Claudius said, motioning for the mother to come to him. She slowly walked towards her fate, turning to say to the child, “Go with the Centurion. Be safe and happy--that is my final wish.”

  She was quickly yanked inside. “Tell Caesar he forgot to send me an invitation to the banquet. I would have enjoyed meeting his whore,” Claudius said, slamming the door.

  Antony was relieved that Claudius didn’t devour the woman in front of her child, or him. “That certainly was uncomfortable,” Cassius said to him, “and I’d like to forego any further awkwardness by not accompanying you to visit Calpurnia. You forgot to mention that when you picked us up, you know. You only said that you didn’t want us to miss Caesar’s fine banquet.”

  “That’s right,” Brutus said. “We’ll go ahead and meet you at Caesar’s villa. I don’t want to be late and displease Caesar. It’s bad enough that we could now be on Claudius’ bad side.”

  “Bad sides are all that a vampire has,” Antony said, motioning for the girl to follow behind him. “Claudius is crazy. You should know that you can’t placate the insane. They will never be happy with anything that you do.”

  Antony slowly marched his horse away from the two senators and headed towards Caesar’s Palace. What had he been thinking to invite that simpleton, Brutus, and the devious Cassius to join him? Was it simply because he didn’t want to face Calpurnia alone? He had never been afraid to face a woman’s fury before. Still, he had the nagging suspicion that Calpurnia would blame him for Caesar leaving her. As he’d been blamed previously for Caesar’s carousing and womanizing.

  The screams of the woman who was dinner faded and the sobs of the child walking behind him grew. He swooped the girl up, placing her in front of him on the horse, and quickened his pace to the Palatine Hill, home to the finest estates and palaces in Rome. Past the arches of the aqueducts, past the fountains that spewed the excess water from the aqueducts, past the temples of the gods, and the apartments of the poor, to the enclave of the powerful few, the rich who ruled the world and Rome--to the palace of Caesar.

  He no sooner dismounted his horse, handing the reins to a slave, when Calpurnia ran out from the atrium to greet him. “Marc, it’s so good of you to come, so good to see you again,” she said warmly, throwing her arms around him in a hug.

  This was the first time she’d ever hugged him or greeted him so warmly. Usually he received only a cold stare from her. A disapproving, icy stare. “Calpurnia. It’s…nice to see you again, too,” he said, reaching behind him, “I have a gift for you.” He pushed the child forward.

  The girl was trying to stifle her sobs. “Oh, you poor dear. What’s the matter?” Calpurnia, known throughout Rome for her kindness and gentle ways, asked the child as she kneeled down to her level and touched her on the shoulder.

  “My mother got eaten by a vampire!” the girl cried.

  Calpurnia hugged the child, gazing at Antony with shock in her pale, weary, blue eyes. Antony reflected on how attractive she still was, after all these years of being Caesar’s wife. Of course, they had married when she was only sixteen but it seemed as if she’d added a frown line upon her forehead for every season spent with the philandering general. How many times had she given Antony a disapproving look with those eyes when he’d come to gather Caesar for a night of drunken debauchery? How many wrinkles had he contributed to her still attractive face?

  Her brown hair fell in ringlets around her features and a heavy gold necklace set with emeralds decorated her elegant neck. Her fine silk tunica extended gracefully to her feet, over it she wore a stola, announcing her status as a married woman, fastened at the shoulder with an ornate, sculptured cameo.

  “It was Claudius,” Antony said even though she had not asked. “There was nothing to be done, they were his property. Still, he agreed to sell me the child as a gift for you.”

  “Thank you Antony, for that I am grateful,” she said, gently wiping the tears from the face of the little girl. She motioned for a slave. “Child, go with Antigonus, he will get you settled in.” To the slav
e she said, “Ask your wife to take care of her, your children to play with her, and I’d like you to tutor her. Her life will be better from this day forward. She will never endure such horror again.”

  Antony expected no less of Calpurnia. Caesar and his wife had a reputation for treating their slaves well. Caesar had, on many occasions, freed slaves who had served him favorably. Calpurnia showed nothing but benevolence to every citizen, free or slave.

  She wove her arm around Antony’s elbow and led him to the sanctuary of the stately courtyard. “The vampires will bring an end to the greatness of Rome,” she said. “That is why I asked you to come. I fear that they will also be the death of Caesar.”

  They walked past the cypress trees and shrubbery that embraced the atrium. She paused in front of a marble statue of Venus, the patron goddess of Caesar. “I don’t understand this world we live in now…so different from the day I married Caesar. Vampires have incredible power now, they kill as they please in the city, and the countryside is besieged by werewolves. Why do the people allow this to happen?”

  “The people fear death, Calpurnia, and the vampires offer a glimpse of hope for an eternal life. As for the werewolves, I’ve heard that the vampires are working to rid the countryside of the beasts, so perhaps they can serve the glory of Rome.”

  “Would you accept an offer to join them if they asked you? There are worse things than death you know. Caesar will never join them and I hear that Queen Cleopatra has banished them from Egypt.”

  He’d never considered that he might get a request to join the vampires or what he would do with such a tempting proposal. “Nothing is worse than death, Calpurnia, nothing. However, I suppose living only for the pursuit of blood would not suit me well.”

  The slaves served wine and placed a bowl of grapes on a marble pedestal table. Calpurnia motioned for him to sit on the elaborate couch that faced the garden’s centerpiece--the bubbling fountain where a statue of Venus poured water from a golden jug. He greedily downed the wine, earning his reputation as a drinker. He held up the empty goblet and motioned for the slave to pour more wine.

  He noticed that the slave reeked of garlic. Calpurnia detected the smell and his frown and said, “The odor of garlic repels vampires. Slaves and the poor are eating much more of it these days.”

  He nodded. “Don’t fear for Caesar, Calpurnia. The vampires wouldn’t dare move against him.”

  “You don’t hear what I do, Marc. People believe I will side with them against Caesar. They tell me that he plans to divorce me and marry her. They don’t understand that true love is forgiveness and I truly love Caesar and always will, no matter what.”

  He did understand. His wife Fulvia still loved him in spite of many infidelities. Her devotion to him was as unwavering as Calpurnia’s to Caesar. Yet both women were reminiscent of loyal dogs that offered unconditional love. It was an admirable trait but one that he took for granted and could not return.

  “You must warn Caesar not to banish the vampires from Rome. If he moves against such powerful enemies they will kill him and Cleopatra. I had a terrible dream last night that he was attacked and bleeding to death by the statue of Pompeius.”

  Surely she didn’t expect him to warn Caesar of her dream? The foolish notion of a jealous woman had led him on an imprudent mission. “That sounds more like a nightmare than a dream, Calpurnia. You know, Caesar will always be generous to you, no matter what happens. You will always have a grand home, jewels, and money as befits a loyal wife.”

  She nervously pulled at her necklace, a tear appearing in one eye. “I don’t care about such things--I care about Caesar. Will you not warn him then? Must I go to him? Can you not ask Brutus for help?”

  “Brutus? That man is too stupid to know that Caesar…” he stopped speaking. “Damn it,” he muttered.

  “That Caesar is his father. Yes, I’m well aware of Caesar’s long affair with Brutus’ mother, Servilia. I’m well aware of all his affairs,” she said, the tear falling down her face. “I’m well aware that Servilia gave Caesar a son that he could not claim. I’m aware that his first wife, Cornelia, died given birth to a stillborn son, and that Cleopatra has given him a child he can claim…and that I could not give him children at all,” she said, as more tears fell down her face.

  Antony felt an urgent need to flee. He was beginning to feel compassion for Calpurnia and that emotion always made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He’d forged a cold steel exterior many years ago and kindness could not be allowed to slip in. One could not win battles if concerns for other human beings were felt. A certain hardness was expected from a centurion.

  “I must go,” he said, rising from the sofa. “Caesar expects me, I’m late.”

  Calpurnia visibly stiffened her back and stopped crying. “Of course. Thank you for coming,” she said, rising slowly and gracefully from the couch. “Have a safe journey and be prepared. The streets of Rome are not as they were when you left for battle.”

  There was nothing left to say. She’d made a request of him that he ignored. He clumsily hugged her goodbye, wished her well, and couldn’t stop himself from riding his horse full gallop away from the palace.

  He slowed down as he approached the streets of Rome and reminded himself that Rome wasn’t built on empathy, indeed, only extreme cruelty and hostilities had forged the republic. Shaking off any feelings of compassion, he looked forward to eating Caesar’s fine food and drinking his even finer wine. Compassion was viewed as a sign of weakness in Rome and Marc Antony refused to be seen as vulnerable.

  His horse unexpectedly reared up in panic and he worked to steady him, fearing for a moment that he might be thrown off the steed. It was his first hint that something was amiss in the streets of Rome.

  It was quiet, much too peaceful for the greatest city in the world. The streets of Rome had never been silent at night; drunken carousing always kept a steady din. Perhaps he had been gone too long. Instead of the merriment usually carried on the darkened streets he sensed fear.

  He watched in amazement as citizens hurried along and scurried behind doors like mice evading a predator. “Here now,” he called out to one figure, a man who wore the white toga of a free Roman citizen, “what’s this all about? Where is everyone going?”

  The man stared at him with the frozen look of fear Antony had often seen in the eyes of the vanquished as the Roman army advanced and digested their freedom. “Have you not heard centurion? It’s not safe to be on the streets after dark. Many go missing,” he lowered his voice to an ear-straining whisper, “it’s the vampires, the streets of Rome belong to them at night. I advise you to take cover,” he said, running to the door of a nearby inn.

  The familiar sounding screams of those being devoured began to echo in Antony’s head. He was surrounded by the piercing moans of the suddenly dying, one behind him, one ahead, to the east and the west. He turned his horse in circles, desperately seeking an avenue of quiet escape.

  The horse detected movement and froze in place, refusing to turn any longer. Antony also saw the shadowy figures moving so quickly they were only a blur. “Hurry, run…run! We must reach the inn!” he heard voices calling. The inn door opened as the free citizen who had given Antony the warning motioned for them all to enter.

  Two man ran towards the door. The first man reached the safety of the inn but turned to let the other, obviously his master, enter first. A shadow enveloped him, pulling him away from shelter and disappearing around the corner. “That’s my best slave!” shouted the man as he hurried inside, slamming the door.

  Antony reached for his dagger. He wouldn’t be taken so easily. He turned to face the shadow that appeared directly in front of him. As his eyes adjusted he recognized the portly figure of Claudius.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t the man who took my dessert.”

  Antony unsheathed his sword and held it tightly in one hand, and twirled his dagger with the other. “You dare to attack the citizens of Rome? Prepare to have your food do
battle!” Antony yelled.

  “Calm down, centurion,” Claudius replied, licking his bloody lips. “There are no attacks on citizens, only some missing slaves. Don’t forget that I am a senator who serves the citizens of Rome.”

  “Liar! You serve yourself and those of your kind…dinner! This will not be tolerated in a civilized society!” Antony yelled.

  Claudius chuckled the snicker of a psychopath, clearly enjoying the moment. “That’s where you’re wrong, Antony. It will be accepted and we will be masters of the future,” he stepped forward, grabbing the bridle of Antony’s horse, preventing its movement. Looking up at Antony, he said, “We can always use a good warrior. Join us.”

  Antony was stunned to silence with the invitation. Claudius loosened his grip on the horse and stepped aside, waving his hand. “You have safe passage for now. No decision is necessary at the moment but mark my words--I recognize the fellow fundamental nature of a vampire--you will join us one day.”

  Fading screams of the dying marked Antony’s exit from the city. He was relieved to pick up the sounds of merriment coming from Caesar’s villa, drifting through the blackness, beckoning a warm welcome.

  The villa was magnificent, an equal to Caesar’s palace with yellow marble pillars, similar to those on the greatest temples, signaling a greeting to visitors. He quickly dismounted his steed, handed the reins to the nearest slave, and entered the courtyard.

  Rome’s elite were reclined on luxurious couches, eating from a great banquet of fish, boar, lobster, clams, and pheasant. The tables were laden with ducks, venison, lamb, and cakes.

  Brutus and Cassius had comfortably settled in and were drinking wine from silver goblets. Senators were making toasts, their young, beautiful, trophy wives next to them.