by M C Dulac
He smiled as if he read her thoughts. They stood on the bridge, gazing at the dark water.
Antonio’s eyes were hopeful and sultry. They had a soft blue glow in the twilight. They must have caught a reflection, but she could see no blue light nearby.
Then his phone rang. He glared at the message. A frown replaced the smile. Rebecca thought that Antonio, troubled and brooding, was even more appealing than Antonio, happy and smiling.
“It’s -”
“Your boss?”
He nodded grimly, “I have to go. But - can I see you tomorrow?”
“Sure.”
“And the day after that?”
She shrugged.
“And the day after that?”
She nodded and smiled.
He held her hand, “I’m so glad you are here Rebecca. We are leading each other out of the darkness.”
He looked blissfully happy as he walked her to the Metro.
* * * * *
Rebecca’s heart was soaring when she reached her hotel room. But what exactly did he mean? They were leading each other out of darkness. Was there something lost in the translation? Wouldn’t it be nice to find someone to save and rescue you from the turmoil of the world, who you could rescue too? Or was it just one of those things that beautiful Italian boys said to impressionable tourists?
It felt so good to have something else to think about. For too long Rebecca had been living in darkness, going over and over the terrible months when Laura got ill. The ghosts from that time had haunted her through Florence. She had grieved until her heart was empty, and she was numb to all feelings. For the first time in a long time, her heart felt warm again. She was happy to let her mind wander - even if her friendship with Antonio was just a romantic dream, and he disappeared tomorrow.
After Rebecca had showered and changed, she sat cross-legged on her bed and opened her laptop. There was an email from her mother. She wrote back telling her not to worry, that she was busy seeing the sights and fine on her own. She didn’t mention Antonio, although there was no reason not to. Jane had met Antonio, and liked him. It was just so early in their friendship, she didn’t know where it was going, if anywhere.
Rebecca lay back against the pillows. She could not get Antonio out of her head.
She opened a new screen. She knew Antonio was from Naples. He hadn’t talked about his family. The only thing she did know about him, was the name of his boss.
Seeing the effect the phone calls had on Antonio, Rebecca felt entitled to investigate. She began to type - Otto von Schumann.
She hoped she wasn’t about to find something terrible. Or criminal. Maybe Antonio did need leading out of the darkness.
She stared at the search results.
Otto von Schumann, businessman, banker, owner of a private equity firm. Net worth...
Rebecca took a deep breath.
Net worth - billions.
Based in Rome and Amalfi. Originally German, resident in Italy for many decades. There were no photographs of Schumann. There was one article with the enticing headline “Ten of the Wealthiest People You’ve Never Heard Of”. Schumann was number six, in a list of people who lived behind high gates and traveled by private plane, and met world leaders in secret. Schumann must have been old, for he had owned businesses in Italy since the 1960s.
Rebecca rubbed her temples. Antonio worked for Otto von Schumann - a billionaire. No wonder Antonio lived in such a magnificent apartment. And no wonder Antonio was so mysterious and shy. What would it be like to know a man that wealthy?
But Schumann had a strange power over him. Was Antonio really an employee? Or was he Schumann’s son - or grandson?
She couldn’t ask Antonio. She had only learned Schumann’s name because she had glanced at Antonio’s phone when it rang. She didn’t want him to think she was prying. And was it really fair to tell him what she had found out? The real Antonio was a dreamer - the young man who filled his fine apartment not with gadgets and luxuries, but brilliant art.
Rebecca scrolled down the screen to see if she could find out more about Otto von Schumann. The second most famous Otto von Schumann was an aristocratic German whose diary of his Grand Tour - the cultural journey made by many European aristocrats in the eighteenth-century - was held in a German museum. Schumann’s descriptions of Rome, Naples, and the Amalfi Coast in the 1760s had inspired many of his contemporaries.
He must be an ancestor of the current Otto von Schumann.
The search engine had thrown up other websites too. Clicking on a link, she found herself on a website about myths and legends. Amid the usual pictures of vampires and scary beasts, she saw the heading, “The Monster of Amalfi”.
‘Living high on a cliff above the Amalfi Coast, the monster of Amalfi dwelt in his ruined castle. The local farmers refused to tend the lemon groves, fearing the creature that lived in the ruins. Clad in fine clothes and weeping by moonlight, the monster prowled the night roads and midnight coves, and was linked to many disappearances. (Hashtag: Vampires).’
The monster was said to be Otto von Schumann, an aristocratic voyager on a Grand Tour.
Rebecca shivered. The other articles on the website were clearly fanciful, rehashing any old myth or monster from around the world. And the eighteenth-century Otto von Schumann could not have been the Monster of Amalfi. He had got back to Germany with his diary.
She hadn’t expected any of this, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.
Billionaire, aristocrat, monster. Definitely a demanding boss.
Just as she was about to close her laptop, she typed one more name.
Albert Price.
There were Albert Prices all over the world. Doctors, lawyers, members of sports teams. She tried, ‘Albert Price, scientist’ and then ‘Albert Price, painting’, and found nothing. She then searched Google for the website of the Palazzo Barberini, hoping there’d be some information about the painting.
The painting wasn’t listed, but she saw the edge of it in a photograph on the website. The scientist’s apprentice did look like Antonio.
Rebecca lay back on her bed. It was all such an Italian mystery. History was layered on top of history, on myth and legend, and everything repeated itself. Antonio’s beauty was the same that had inspired the sculptors and painters of centuries before.
What did Antonio’s words mean? Was it his good looks and charm that made her feelings so intense? Did he want to be friends - or more? And how would that work out, since she was only in Italy for a few weeks?
But she’d ask Antonio about the picture in the gallery again - tomorrow.
chapter three
Rebecca was sitting by the window the next morning, gazing over the hotel courtyard, when her phone glowed. She leaned over quickly, and smiled when she saw a message from Antonio.
Maybe they could meet late that afternoon? Would she like to see the Roman Forum?
Rebecca had not met Antonio in daylight, apart from that first afternoon in the Pincio Gardens. What did he do all day? Did he paint in his studio? Or was he meeting the mysterious Otto von Schumann?
What would it be like to know a man as rich as Otto von Schumann? Was that the reason Antonio was so reserved? Maybe he feared so much wealth would influence people’s opinion of him. And why was Antonio working for Schumann, a banker, when he had such talent and was clearly happiest drawing in his studio? Antonio must have money of his own, if he had such a luxurious apartment in central Rome and another in Piramide.
At least Schumann was a legitimate businessman. There was nothing sinister or dishonest about him. The most alarming thing she had found was that Otto von Schumann had the same name as a mythological monster, and that was hardly anything to worry about.
She wrote back, saying she would love to see the Forum. He replied at once: Great, meet you there.
Another message appeared a moment later. It was from Katie, an American girl who was staying at the hotel. Rebecca had forgotten that they had arranged to me
et that day. Antonio made her forget everything.
Rebecca’s spirits lifted at once when Katie greeted her on the busy Via Nazionale later that morning. Katie was twenty-two and had been living in Rome since summer, completing her studies. Her easy-going enthusiasm was infectious.
“I’m going to miss Rome,” Katie gazed at the city, hands over her heart.
“Are you leaving soon?”
“Tomorrow.”
“That’s a shame,” Rebecca said.
“I know, it would have been fun to hang out more. I’m having farewell drinks tonight. You should come if you are free.”
“Thanks, I’d love to,” Rebecca said as they entered a shop.
Katie was one of those people who instinctively found the best clothes in the store, while Rebecca could wander around for hours without finding anything. Katie honed in on some dresses, giving each a careful glance.
“Tonight will be fun,” Katie added, “There’ll be a few guys from college and some girls from the art school there.”
“So you also went to the art school,” Rebecca tried not to show too much interest. Of course, that was how Jane met Katie. Rebecca buried her nose in a rack of clothes. She took out a black dress, “Do you know Antonio?” she said casually.
Katie broke into a wide smile, “I wish.”
“I met him in the Pincio Gardens with Jane. He seems very nice.”
“He’s hot,” Katie declared, “But he doesn’t date. Believe me, a lot of girls have tried.”
Rebecca nodded, trying to keep all emotion from her face.
“It’s a shame I won’t see him again. The art school is closed until next year now,” Katie said, “Hey, let’s look at those shoes.”
Rebecca didn’t tell Katie she was seeing Antonio in a few hours. Maybe it was because her conversations with Antonio had been so personal and he seemed so genuine. It felt wrong to make him the subject of gossip, especially now she knew he worked for the billionaire, Otto von Schumann. And once Rebecca started talking about him, she wasn’t sure if she could stop.
But she considered Katie’s information with interest. Antonio was nice. And he didn’t take advantage of his looks, even though he met a lot of women at the art studio. Antonio was pretty close to perfect.
“You should try on that dress,” Katie said.
Rebecca hadn’t realised she was still holding the black dress. She glanced at herself in the mirror. The dress had a flattering cut.
“Go on, buy it. You might have a date when I’m gone,” Katie smiled.
Rebecca bought the dress, and some shoes Katie chose for her. The dress was expensive, but it suited her. She hadn’t bought any dresses to Italy. She hadn’t expected to go on any dates.
After lunch, they walked along the Corso, stopping by the fashion stores pounding with loud Italian music. Rebecca had been so immersed in the history of Rome, she had missed the modern side of the city.
“I’ve got to meet my boyfriend,” Katie checked her phone. She pecked Rebecca on each cheek, “Remember - drinks at six and dinner afterwards. Bring a friend if you like.”
“I’ll see you there.”
Rebecca took her shopping bags to her room, showered, changed and lay down on her bed. Should she ask Antonio if he wanted to go to Katie’s dinner? Katie liked him. It was perfectly normal to invite him. But even though he was close to their age, he seemed so different to Rebecca and Katie. He had such maturity, unlike Katie’s spontaneous energy. It was as though he had lived a life very different to theirs.
The mystery filled her thoughts as she walked down the steps to Trajan’s Forum late that afternoon. She was still getting used to coming across ancient ruins in the middle of the bustling city. Antonio was waiting by the main gate to the Forum. When she saw him, all her doubts disappeared and her heart somersaulted with excitement.
“So you haven’t been to the Forum before?”
“Not yet,” Rebecca said, “It was on my list of places to see. But I’m glad to visit - with you.”
Antonio cast her a shy smile.
Antonio had bought tickets, and they walked down the stony path into the ruins of the ancient imperial city.
Grasses grew among the fallen stones, and vines and trees had reclaimed the hillsides. It was a sobering feeling to walk along the roads of the once greatest city in the world, under decaying columns and triumphal arches. A single column rose into the sky, all that remained of a once mighty temple. When they reached the top of the Palatine Hill, they looked over the ruins and then at the grandeur of the modern and renaissance city that had sprung up around the Forum.
“This place makes you feel insignificant,” Rebecca said, gazing at a marble column, pock-marked by time.
“All things rise and fall.”
“But some last forever.”
“Only as ruins,” Antonio said, “It is one thing to live forever, and another to remain strong and young.”
The weather was changing fast. Storm clouds had gathered over the city and gave a fiery glow to the edges of the sky. A light rain began to fall. Antonio helped her climb a steep path and they sheltered under an archway.
“Why did the ancient Romans let this happen?” Rebecca stared at the bare brickwork.
“A lot of the marble was taken to build churches and palaces for the popes. The values of old Rome were despised and forgotten. This became a field, a place for grazing animals. The Romans got on with their new lives.”
“So they forgot about the Forum?”
“Until the English and the Germans came here on the Grand Tour, looking for antiquities and curiosities. There used to be many artists back then, selling sketches of the ruins to the tourists.”
The Grand Tour. Rebecca had seen those words recently. The original Otto von Schumann had come to Italy on a Grand Tour in the eighteenth-century. Maybe Antonio was aware of Schumann’s ancestor.
The sky was brightening again. The rain cleared. The olive trees glistened with raindrops and the paths were muddy.
They walked up a green hill and found more excavated ruins. In the distance was a huge grassy area, which Antonio said was the Circus Maximus, the ancient racetrack. Now it was yet another ghost of the once invincible empire.
They walked along the meandering paths. The remains of the Colosseum loomed ahead.
“In the days of the Grand Tour it was much easier to reach the ruins,” Antonio said, “Goats grazed here and a hermit lived in the Colosseum. Artists could set up an easel and sell drawings to the tourists. It’s a good trade,” Antonio said, “Although not as lucrative as it was.”
Rebecca raised an eyebrow.
“When I used to sell there.”
“When did you sell drawings near the Colosseum?”
“Years ago.”
Antonio must have been a child prodigy, like Leonardo da Vinci, who started painting at thirteen. She tried to imagine what Antonio had been like as a young teenager, selling his sketches. What did his parents think?
They descended a muddy path and wandered along the Via Sacra. The rain had scattered the few tourists and they were all alone.
“It is humbling,” Rebecca said, staring at the ruined arch of Titan.
Clouds covered the sun. Rebecca felt a shadow of sadness pass over her.
“One day we will be forgotten,” Rebecca said, “And this moment will be gone.”
“I will remember this moment, always.”
He seemed to shimmer.
“So will I,” Rebecca said simply.
“Believe me, Rebecca, I will remember you, always.”
Rebecca’s heart quickened. Did he want to say more? His eyes were troubled.
The sun pierced through the ruined arch, and they were suddenly bathed in golden sunlight. Antonio shielded his eyes.
Then he broke into a smile and held her hand between his, “You are cold. That is not good. Come on, let’s go back to the city.”
They left the Forum and began walking along the Via del Fori
Imperiali. The traffic of Rome buzzed in the distance. Antonio was silent, while Rebecca tried to resist the feeling she was falling in love. They crossed the roads before the Parliament Building and reached the Corso.
Earlier that day with Katie, she had seen only the modern shops and the gelato vendors. Now with Antonio, she felt connected to the older city.
“Katie’s farewell dinner is tonight,” she said, “Would you like to come?”
“Katie?”
“The American girl from the art school.”
Antonio’s brown eyes were distant, before he smiled, “Yes, I will. I don’t go out very often these days. A lot of the places I used to know are closed now.”
“Katie will be thrilled.”
“Then I will go. Where is the restaurant?”
Rebecca showed him the map on her phone.
“I know the place, it is near the river. Let’s make our way there,” he patted his jeans pocket and hesitated.
“Is there anything wrong?”
“I should check my messages. But I have left my phone at the studio.”
He tried to look calm, but his jaw had stiffened and his shoulders were tense. There was only one person who seemed to send him messages. If he had no phone, Otto von Schumann could not reach him.
“You must get it.”
“But we will be late for the dinner...”
“Katie won’t mind.”
He nodded thankfully. They were almost at Antonio’s building. When they went upstairs, the shutters of the studio were open, and the rooms were infused with the evening sun.
Antonio found his phone just as it began to ring. Apologising, he answered it and paced around the room. He sat down at the drawing board, scribbling instructions. Rebecca guessed Otto von Schumann was the caller.
Her eyes roamed the wall of landscape drawings, recognising the monuments and ruins she had just seen in the Forum.
As she moved along the wall, she saw a charcoal portrait. The girl in the portrait was young, maybe in her late teens. Her hair was pinned to her head and he had sketched only the outline of her loose old-fashioned clothing. Antonio had captured the girl’s frightened and weary expression, and also her shy adoration. She was hopeful, as though she had just fallen in love. Who was she? An old girlfriend of Antonio’s? Rebecca did not think so. She looked like she came from a different century. The girl’s eyes were so vulnerable, Rebecca found it hard to look at them. To be so devoted must be dangerous.
