“Interesting.” The assassin rubbed his chin with his hand. He was considering what he had heard. Alive, it seemed the boy could be worth more. He could take the cash on offer now, kill the man and get more money in Rome. Things were looking up, but he was not ready to commit just yet. “Servilia never mentioned any of this. Maybe you speak the truth and maybe not. I will think on it while I look for the others. Does the woman know where this money is?
“No. I am the only one who does,” Vitruvius lied.
“Well then, you just sit tight until I return with your friends. If she confirms your story about the brat’s father, and you up your offer to ten, we may have a deal.” The assassin leant over Vitruvius and began to laugh. “If not, you can watch me screw her until she begs to die. Then I will bugger the boy before I slit your throat!” He walked out of the house leaving the sound of his laughter ringing in Vitruvius’ ears.
Melissa followed Vitruvius’ directions. She and Antonius crossed the field and doubled back on themselves when they reached the river. The open fields gave little camouflage, but Melissa knew she had to reach the crossing upstream and the farm beyond, as it was the only place for miles where she could get help.
She tried to make a game of their escape so as not to frighten Antonius, but he knew something was wrong. He continually asked her questions, all of which Melissa avoided answering, until he fell silent and walked at her side, holding onto her hand as tightly as he could.
As the river narrowed, the banks became more wooded. Melissa spotted an old path that left the side of the river and headed deeper into the trees. Following this would make it easier to hide, so she took it.
It was far darker in the wood and their presence made the animals and birds occupying the undergrowth run from them. The noises frightened Antonius even more and he clung to Melissa. She picked him up to comfort him, even though his weight was really too much for her. There were noises coming from behind her that seemed too loud to be made by the wildlife. It had to be that the men were in the woods and catching up with them. Suddenly, she heard one of them calling out. Melissa moved forward to the thickest group of bushes she could find and pushed herself backwards into them. The twigs and branches scratched at her arms and face as she did so. She sat on the ground, holding Antonius. “We have to be quiet,” she whispered, “can you do that for me until I say you can speak?” Antonius nodded and clung to her even more tightly.
Melissa could hear a man approaching, searching the wood as he went, but in a very haphazard fashion. With any luck he would go straight past. He was close enough for Melissa to hear his words clearly. “I know you are here, girl. Bring me the boy and I will let you go. I have no quarrel with you,” the man was yelling.
Melissa knew he was lying. If Antony had gone back on his word, then they were all targets. She was not surprised he had sent men after her: she was a conspirator in Caesar’s assassination, after all, but she found it hard to believe that he would kill his own child. Unless of course, these men were meant to take them back to Antony and not to kill them, but that seemed unlikely. No, she decided, they were assassins sent to remove the one woman who could ruin Antony’s career.
Antonius was by far the most vulnerable. He was totally defenceless against the unimaginable torments these evil men might have planned for him. Melissa knew she could not hide for long. What she did not know was whether she had one or two men to deal with. If the other man was dead, Vitruvius would be coming after them, unless he too was dead. No, she could not think that. He was a skilled soldier who would triumph and come to their rescue. Melissa convinced herself that Vitruvius had been held up fighting the other man and was coming for them. She just had to wait a little longer.
Their assailant was getting closer by the minute and he was now being very thorough in his search. He continued to call to them. “I was only paid for the witch, the boy and the man, so why not do us both a favour? I have the other two, I just need the boy. You can go once we have had a bit of fun.”
Melissa shuddered. She knew only too well what fun meant. The rest of his words were a shock. He must have mistaken Renna for her. She had to be the one he referred to as ‘the witch’ and not the former slave, so he had made a mistake, but the news that his companion had Renna and Vitruvius at the house was heartbreaking. Melissa realised she was alone. It was down to her to save Antonius from this man.
Melissa hugged the little boy sitting beside her tightly and whispered in his ear, “I have to go to the river. Stay here. Do not make a sound and do not come out until the bad man has gone. Understand?” Antonius nodded. Melissa kissed him on the nose. He still looked frightened, but he had not cried, and Melissa was proud of his courage. Reluctantly, she let go of him and moved out from under the bushes as quietly as she could and through the trees towards the river’s edge.
As Melissa reached the bank she began to run, making as much noise as possible. She had to put as much distance between her and Antonius as she could before their stalker caught up to her. She prayed he would not decide to ignore her and continue looking for the little boy. As she ran she began to look for any likely weapons − rocks, broken branches, anything she could use. She hardly noticed the mist that was forming over the water.
Suddenly, Melissa stopped. She might have imagined it, but she could have sworn she heard someone calling her name. She looked around her and for the first time realised the river was covered in a thick mist. If she crossed over, she might be able to lose the man following her in it. The river did not appear to be too deep, so it was worth a try.
At that moment, Melissa saw a figure coming towards her out of the mist. She recognised him instantly; it was Antony. He has come to oversee my torture, she thought. A familiar wave of nausea hit her. She knew that anything Antony would do to her was far worse than she could expect from the man in the woods behind her. If Antony had his way, it would take her days to die: he had promised her such a fate more than once. A feeling of resignation swept over her. She felt there was no escape for her, but she might still be able to reason with him for the lives of Antonius and the others. Antonius was Antony’s son, after all, and she still could not believe he would hurt him. She changed direction and headed down to the water’s edge, determined to throw herself upon his mercy, and beg for the lives of the others.
As Antony came nearer, Melissa realised something was wrong with her assessment. He looked like Antony, but his clothes were not those of either a consul or a general, or indeed of any Roman. He was wearing what looked like a t-shirt and shorts. It was all far too ... modern!
Melissa heart leapt. It was not Mark Antony, but Anthony Marcus in front of her. In that moment she forgot everything − where she was, why she was running. She even forgot that the life of a helpless child hung in the balance. All she could think about was getting to Anthony and being swept away by him to her real life.
At that moment, the assassin came out of the bushes and ran straight at her. He caught up to her in seconds, grabbing her dress and tearing it from her shoulder. She slipped on the wet ground and fell into the river, swallowing large mouthfuls of cold water in the process. Choking for air, she pulled herself onto the bank, away from her attacker. There was an odd ringing noise in her ears. It sounded like someone shouting “NOOOOOO!!!”
Chapter 29
Present Day
Every day for a month since Melissa’s disappearance, Anthony Marcus had come down to the stream to look for clues. Every day Victor told him it was a waste of time, but he did it anyway. It gave him something to do, and distracted him from feeling that he was a helpless bystander, watching the situation from a distance, but completely unable to affect the outcome. He hated the feeling of uselessness that had descended on him, and he had resolved never to give up on Melissa, no matter how long it took him to find her.
The longer he spent at the water’s edge, the more time he had to reflect on his own past. Slowly, memories from his childhood began to resurface, memories that had s
o traumatised him, he had buried them deep in the back of his mind. The more he remembered, the more questions he put to Victor. The old man feigned ignorance to begin with but, as time went on, he had given in to the constant interrogation Anthony put him through. Gradually, Anthony had put together a picture of his past that was both shocking and surreal.
From what he remembered, or forced Victor to recount, he knew that he had indeed been on that river bank as a child. The water had been much higher back then and that was why initially he had been confused. He had been hiding there, playing with his aunt, when she was attacked. He was unsure of the exact details, but he vaguely remembered a man rescuing her, whom he believed to be his father because this man was very similar in looks to Anthony as he was now. He knew he had run away, because the river turned red and it terrified him. He had run to Victor, but they never found his aunt or the mystery man. There was one more thing: there had been an unusual mist that day and that mist had a smell about it he would always remember. It was a musty, earthy smell similar to the smell he associated with an earth floor in an old cellar. He had hated that smell for years and as a result he had always loathed having to work in the musty, damp basements of old buildings, which was a distinct disadvantage for an archaeologist. He also knew that he had been in that mist more than once. As a child, he spent hours searching for it, desperate to find it once again, despite the nightmares he suffered as a result. He had never before made the links to explain his behaviour, but now he knew the answer.
Victor told Anthony how he had first met Melissa before Anthony was born and long before people called him Victor. His real name was Quintus Vitruvius, a native of the area and a distinguished soldier who had served under Caesar in Gaul. He explained how, on the day Mark Antony returned to the legion following his ejection from the Senate, he arrived with two foreign women he had stumbled upon beside the Rubicon. Victor told a tale of one of the women convincing Caesar she could see the future, offering her services in return for his protection. That woman was Melissa, and the other Rebecca. Caesar had appointed legionary Vitruvius to watch over them, which he had done for five years. Anthony had been born during that time and Melissa and Vitruvius had assumed joint responsibility for him after his real mother, Rebecca, had died giving him life. Anthony still did not know who his father was, other than it was not Vitruvius, but he did know that Melissa was the aunt he had lost. The surreal nature of his relationship with her was difficult to comprehend. The love of his life turned out to be the woman who had effectively brought him up, even though he could not remember her clearly from that time.
He and Vitruvius also passed through the mist after Melissa had vanished and ended up in the 1970s. They were taken in by a kindly widow, who did not think it odd to find a man and child who spoke fluent Latin wandering on her land. It felt as if she knew more about their appearance than she let on, but she had never said a word about it. When he was a little boy Anthony was unable to say Vitruvius and had called him Vittores. This was how Vitruvius’ name changed in translation to Victor Reyes.
Everything Anthony had learnt gave him reason to hope that Melissa could find her way back to him. This mist was a doorway to the past, but also to the future; the problem was there was no way to predict where you would end up if you used it. He and Victor had been lost in the mist and ended up in the future. Melissa, his lover, had disappeared into the past. As a boy he had watched Melissa, his aunt, vanish in the same circumstances, though he had no idea where she had gone.
He could not explain why, but he had a really good feeling about today. This morning felt different to every other one so far. For a start it was unusually cold, which Anthony noticed on his way down to the stream. The air felt damp, as if it had been raining, but the ground was parched. It was also eerily quiet. The usual sound of birds singing their morning chorus was absent and the woods were far too still. Usually he would notice movements in the undergrowth as small animals tried to flee when disturbed by his approach. The only noise today was made by his own footsteps as he walked, and the only movement, from the wisps of ground mist that were coming off the fields, twisting as they rose into the light breeze.
As Anthony exited the tree line and approached the water’s edge, he became more aware of just how thick the morning mist had become. It hung like a curtain in front of him, so thick that it separated the area into two distinct zones. He felt his pulse quicken and he paused to take a deep breath. He was unsure, but he thought he could smell something. He tried again, closing his eyes in order to concentrate only on his breathing. It was definitely there – that same earthy smell. It was faint, but getting stronger. His pulse began to race, urged on by a sudden rush of adrenalin pulsing through his body. He felt an urge to run, but fought it, knowing he had to remain calm. All the while he believed there was nothing there that could hurt him, he could master his fear. His vision was limited by the mist, but every other sense in his body felt heightened, as if trying to compensate. He could hear the water in the stream, but its gentle trickling had been replaced by the much more forceful sound of water gurgling as it ran across the rocks and pebbles in the river bed. He edged forward slowly into the mist and accidentally stepped into the river up to his calf. He had found the water’s edge, which was far higher than it should have been.
Anthony knew where he was, but he was no longer certain of when it was. His heart pounded in his chest, screaming its urgent need to move him forwards, but he remained still, scanning the mist for any hint of movement on the far bank. He had to wait for some kind of sign that he was in the right time before he continued. At the moment he was still close enough to the present to turn and walk back to the clear air behind him. He could not afford to be sucked into the right place at the wrong time, because, if he did, he would never find Melissa. He had to be patient.
A few moments passed that seemed like an age. There was nothing. Moments turned to minutes and still nothing. Just as he was about to give up, he saw a movement to his left. The mist had cleared slightly and he could see a person running on the other bank. He felt sure it was a woman and he shouted at the top of his voice, “MELISSA!” The woman stopped and looked towards him, but the mist re-formed and obscured his view. He stepped forward, despite knowing that it could be the wrong thing to do, but rational thought had long since left him.
The mist cleared again and he could see the woman coming towards him. She had seen him too. His heart leapt as he waded deeper into the water that now reached his knees. He knew it was Melissa − it had to be.
He was almost across when another man appeared from out of nowhere, armed with a sword, and chased after Melissa. He grabbed at her dress from the rear, succeeding in gripping a section of cloth at her shoulder. As she struggled to free herself, the material ripped and she fell sideways into the water. Anthony heard himself bellowing again.
“NOOOOOO!!!” he yelled, as he forced his way through the water and hurled himself at the other man, knocking the stranger off his feet and sending the sword flying across the ground. The two men came to rest on the muddy edge of the bank, where Anthony pressed his advantage by punching the man repeatedly in the face.
Anthony’s initial attack had caught the other man off-guard, but he was quick to recover himself. A well-aimed punch to the solar plexus, and Anthony was winded long enough for the assassin to throw him off. The man looked around desperately for his sword and lunged for it as soon as he saw it lying on the ground, but fell well short of retrieving it as Anthony grabbed at his leg and pulled him backwards across the wet, sticky ground.
The assassin twisted his body to focus on his opponent and kicked Anthony hard in the jaw with his free leg, forcing him to let go as he slid backwards into the river. Melissa screamed, fearing he had been knocked out.
After she had dragged herself out of the river, Melissa had become a spectator to the fight. The sight of Anthony sliding into the water horrified her. Despite knowing how fit and capable he was, Anthony was facing a hired kil
ler and she could not stand by and do nothing, especially when it looked like he was losing. She looked for a weapon and saw a fallen branch about the size of a baseball bat lying on ground, light enough for her to lift. Failing to spot the sword, it appeared the best thing to hand.
The assassin, on the other hand, had not failed to spot the sword. He scrambled to his feet, heading straight towards the blade, but was sent sprawling once again before he could reach it, this time by Melissa. She swung the branch and made contact with the assassin’s head, knocking him over. She dropped the branch and stumbled forward, grabbing the sword herself.
Despite being dazed from the blow to his head, the assassin was not about to withdraw. He had learnt his skills under Pompey and had fought for him on his right flank at Pharsalus. He recognised the man he was fighting, or at least thought he did, and wanted to settle an old score. The idea of murdering Mark Antony was fuelling him with thoughts of revenge for so many comrades who had fallen to Antony’s sword on that day, and a surge of pure adrenaline now spurred him to continue. He hauled himself to his feet and looked again for the sword, which had vanished. Confused, he spun round in time to see Melissa throwing the sword to Anthony standing in the shallow water.
Anthony caught the sword easily, but he did not intend to use it. Whilst he was more than prepared to beat the man unconscious, his moral compass was not going to swing to murder. Instead he intended to reason with him.
The assassin stopped in his tracks. He was unarmed and believed himself to be facing one of the most fearsome warriors he had ever known. He fully expected to be dead in moments, but to his surprise Mark Antony was lowering the sword and trying to talk to him. He assumed his opponent had gone soft, having spent too much time in a warm bed enjoying the comforts of a woman like the one on the riverbank. The assassin stepped forward, yet Mark Antony made no attempt to raise the sword. Again the assassin paused, pretending to listen and raised his hand to check his skull for blood. His fingertips made contact with a sticky mass at the back of his head which confirmed the severity of his wound.
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