“No one need die here,” Anthony was saying in Latin. “I just want Melissa. I will take her away from here and you will never see either of us again.”
The assassin shook his head in disbelief. Either he was mishearing what was being said, or the situation was becoming farcical. It appeared Lissa was not the dead woman in the house, but the woman here at the river. His opponent was implying he would walk away and never return, if he could take the woman with him. Did she really mean that much to him? Was the great Mark Antony about to give up his consular responsibilities for some foreign slut? It seemed unlikely, but perhaps his understanding was becoming as blurred as his vision. Whatever the truth of the situation, he had one remaining chance for success.
“As you like, Consul,” the assassin said, as he feigned turning away and giving up. As Anthony dropped the sword to his side, the assassin turned again and threw himself at his opponent, screaming at the top of his lungs, intent on terrorising him. As he reached the edge of the bank, his foot slipped on the muddy surface and he skidded into the water.
More by instinct than by intention, Anthony raised the sword and impaled his attacker on the point. Both men looked down in surprise. Anthony had never meant to harm this man, even though he had been threatening Melissa’s life, but now, watching the blood oozing over his hands, Anthony was overtaken by an urge to end the man’s life. His mind filled with horrifying images of a room with a dead woman lying in a pool of her own blood, and of Victor, tied and bound to a chair. These were painful memories from his past that he had buried so deeply until this moment: the nightmares of his youth. Reliving these past terrors filled Anthony with a desperate need for revenge. He gave one final push on the sword, thrusting it deep into his opponent’s body. The assassin fell forward into the water, blood now pouring from his wounds to join the flow of the river as it headed downstream, turning the water red.
The realisation that you have taken another man’s life is enough to send a person into shock. Anthony stood over the body of the assassin staring down at him in bewilderment. He looked down at the blood on his own hands and arms, slowly turning them over, first one way and then the other. His whole body felt numb. Melissa was pulling on his arm and saying something, but he could not hear her. He raised his head to look at her. Her mouth was moving, but he still could not make out her words. She slapped him round the face, but he did not react. It was as if he was incapable of hearing or feeling anything anymore. She slapped him again. Still he felt nothing.
Melissa was equally horrified at what she had witnessed, but it seemed her experiences of life in the past had made her face many unpleasant situations and had taught her how to react to death. Now was not the time to fall apart. They had to get to safety first and deal with their emotions later. One more time for luck, she thought and she went for the third slap.
This time Anthony definitely felt it. He grabbed her wrist, smearing her with the blood from his hands. “Stop doing that!” he demanded, glaring at her momentarily before pulling her into his arms. He hugged her so tightly that she could hardly breathe, smearing more blood over her back and arms as he held her.
“I thought I’d lost you!” he gasped, his voice full of relief. Despite her lack of breath, Melissa held onto Anthony as tightly as he held her and for the first time in years she felt completely safe.
As they clung to each other, Anthony noticed the mist was shifting. He had no idea how long it would last. He moved away from Melissa slightly and began to move towards the other bank. “We have to go,” he said.
Melissa shook her head, pulling away from his grasp. “No, I can’t. There are people here relying on me to bring them help, but first ...” She turned and stepped back to dry land, her eyes searching the trees until she spotted what she was looking for. She pointed towards a particularly large tree. “There!” she said.
Anthony followed her gaze and watched a small boy of around four or five clamber down the bank and walk towards them. He was obviously frightened by what he had witnessed and seemed unsure whether to come out or not. He seemed familiar to Anthony, but he could not think how he knew the boy.
Melissa was relieved that Antonius was alive and uninjured. As she stepped towards him, the boy backed away in terror. Melissa looked down at herself, covered in smears of blood, and understood his fear. “It’s OK,” Melissa said gently, “everything is going to be fine, but you have to come with us.” She took another step forward and held out her hand, encouraging the boy to move forward and take it. “Please come, Antonius, there is no time for this.”
The sound of his former name put the last piece in the puzzle for Anthony. He had always thought that his aunt had left with his father, but in that second Anthony understood he had been looking not at his father, but at an older version of himself. He also knew he had to force Melissa to leave his younger self behind or it would obliterate his life as he had lived it. He grabbed Melissa’s arm and pulled on it harshly, making her turn back to face him. “No, Lissa, he can’t come with us. He has to go back to free Vitruvius.”
“How do you know about Vitruvius? Is he still alive? We need to get him and Renna and take them all with us. What did you just call me?” Melissa was babbling. Anthony tried to calm her by telling her Vitruvius was alive and well back at the house, but she would not listen. She had failed to make the connection between the man at her side and the frightened boy standing on the bank.
“I can’t leave him here! He’s so tiny, he needs me.” Melissa was becoming hysterical and tears poured down her cheeks as she struggled to escape Anthony’s grasp. She bent her head and bit his hand hoping to force him to release her, but he anticipated her move; he had watched her do it once before, after all. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and dragged her towards him, lifting her feet off the ground. She struggled vigorously, punching his shoulders and kicking at his legs determined to make him drop her. Anthony threw Melissa over his shoulder and started back across the river. Still fighting him, she stared in desperation at Antonius, screaming at him to follow them, but the little boy was too terrified to come any further. As the mist began to thicken around her, Melissa watched Antonius turn and run into the trees. Then both he and the Rubicon disappeared from her view.
By the time Anthony and Melissa had reached the other bank, the river had been replaced by the trickling stream once again. The mist had vanished completely and with it any chance of Melissa ever finding Antonius.
Anthony put Melissa down on the ground and collapsed beside her. Every muscle in his body ached from fighting with two different people. He would be covered in bruises later and many of them were probably caused by Melissa. He lay on his back staring at the sky, trying to blot out the face of the man he had just murdered, a face that haunted him every time he closed his eyes.
Melissa sat hugging her knees. She was overcome by the grief of losing Antonius. She knew she would never see him again or know what had happened to any of the people she had just left behind. Her thoughts turned to Vitruvius and Renna. They could be badly wounded and in need of some help, if they were not already dead.
But they were dead! They had all died centuries ago even though she had been with them only moments earlier. Finally she spoke. “How could you be so cruel? I’ll never forgive you if anything bad happened to that boy.” Her words tailed off, knowing it was nothing more than an empty threat.
Anthony began to laugh. He pulled himself up to sit beside her. “Haven’t you worked it out yet?” he asked. Melissa did not reply, but the angry look that she shot him from behind the streaming tears on her face gave him his answer.
Anthony continued. “We left him there because he has to go and free Vittores.” Anthony deliberately used the mispronunciation of Vitruvius’ name to give a clue to his identity, but he was unsure if she had picked up on the reference. He raised his hand and gently pushed Melissa’s hair behind her ear. “You don’t have to worry − that wily old goat has no serious injuries, other than to his pri
de, and he’s going to be fine. They both are.”
“What makes you so sure?” Melissa was confused and tired and her heart was breaking at the very moment she should have been happiest. She needed to know why Anthony was so confident, but she had no idea what words he could possibly have that could take her pain away. She leant towards him, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms around his waist, desperate for some comfort.
Anthony wrapped his arms around Melissa and gently kissed the top of her head. They were both soaking wet and covered in the blood of a dead Roman assassin, but in contrast to Melissa, Anthony was the happiest he had been in years. He had achieved the impossible in rescuing the love of his life from the past, and he was determined he would never let her go again. He stared into her hair, not wanting the moment to end. Then he lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes as he gave her the answer she so desperately craved.
“That little boy is going to get to fall in love with you all over again, and you’re going to spend the rest of your life with him. That’s if you still want to. He’s me, Liss. I’m Antonius!”
Chapter 30
Melissa sat on the veranda staring down the drive towards the road. It had been two weeks since her return and she was finding it difficult to settle. Anthony had hardly let her out of his sight, terrified that he might lose her again. He had reluctantly gone into town alone that morning only because Victor needed more medication, and even then he only went after she had promised not to leave the safety of the house.
Melissa felt trapped by all the attention; what she needed was to be alone, with enough time to make sense of all that had happened. Now she finally had that opportunity, her memories had become too painful to bear and she found herself longing for Anthony to return.
Melissa’s thoughts were interrupted by the noise of a walking stick tapping on the terracotta floor tiles. She had been wondering how long it would be before Victor decided to speak to her. It looked like her wait was over.
“May I join you, Lissa?” he asked. Melissa nodded and Victor settled into a chair beside her. He sat in silence for some time, his laboured breath the only noise disturbing the tranquillity. He looked so old and withered in comparison with the strong soldier he had been the last time she had seen him. There were so many answers she wanted from him, but she did not know where to start and so she waited until Victor reopened the conversation.
“How are you feeling? Any sickness or headaches? I had headaches for a time, but they pass.”
“No headaches. I do feel sick in the mornings, but we both know that’s nothing to do with moving through time by two thousand years.” Melissa looked away down the drive again.
“You have not told him about the baby?” Victor meant, had she told Anthony that she was carrying his father’s child. She shook her head. This was another problem that she did not know how to begin to explain.
“He will know soon enough. You cannot hide it for much longer. Lie. Say Antony raped you. I will not say any different. Antonius loves you and he will understand. You will stay here and he will look after you both.”
“He shouldn’t have to. This is not his responsibility.”
“He was not my responsibility, but I took him on because I loved his mother as much as he loves you. He has loved you all his life and he needs you to care for him because he does not cope well on his own. When you disappeared from his life he was distraught – both times. He waited for you at that river every day, as a little boy and as a man. If you leave him again, it will destroy him and I am too sick to piece him back together this time. Anyway, you promised his mother you would not let any harm come to him as long as you live.”
“Why did you do it? Why take him away from me? What happened to you, Quintus Vitruvius? Was it because you felt I had abandoned you? Did you really hate me that much that you had to ruin my entire life?” Melissa could no longer control the anger she felt at Victor for all the pain he had caused her.
Victor sighed. His body ached and he was tired, but he had started this conversation and knew he owed Melissa an explanation. He was touched that she had used his real name. He had not heard it for so many years and this gave him strength to continue.
“Yes, I hated you. When Antonius found me all he could tell me was that the boat man took you. I knew he meant Mark Antony because of all those toys. I assumed Antony had discovered Servilia’s plot and come to rescue you.”
“Servilia?” Melissa cut across him. “She sent the men?”
“Yes. It was Servilia. She wanted revenge on you for Antony’s betrayal of her son. I thought Antony had come for you and taken you back to Rome, and that you had gone with him willingly. I believed you lied to me when you said you did not love him because I know he loved you. I only realised just how much on that last morning in Rome. I had left you as he asked, but was listening at the door. I knew his true feelings when he told you to leave with me. Mark Antony had already risked his life for you, so it made sense he would let you go to save you from suspicion. I was angry with you for deserting us to be with him. How could I have known back then that it was a different man who had taken you from the river? How could I know Antonius had seen himself? He begged me to find you, but I refused to go back to the river. He hated me for it and he cried for days. I buried Renna and the assassins and we got on with our lives. A few months later we were down at the river by the crossing and there was a thick mist, unlike any I had ever seen before. Antonius ran away from me into it calling for you. I followed him to bring him back, but the current was too strong for a child and he was washed downstream away from me. I followed and when I finally dragged him out onto the other bank we were in a different time and I could not get us home. We were as trapped in the future as you had been in the past, but it was not your future. Not yet, at least.
“We were lucky in a way. We had stumbled onto the land of an Englishwoman, this land here in fact. Her name was Lenore Marcus. I must admit, I was actually glad you taught Antonius to speak your language because I could not talk to her, but he could. She was the widow of an archaeologist, with no family of her own, and she took us in. I worked on her estate in return for a home and for her schooling Antonius in your ways. I learnt to speak and read Italian and English with her help, by reading the books in her husband’s library, those same books in the library today. I found learning easy, I always did. She never questioned that I only spoke Latin at the start. She knew more than she ever said about how we came to be here, but we never discussed it until many years later.
“When Antonius, whom we now called Antonio, was older, Lenore sent him to a boarding school in England, which he hated. He was the one to call himself Anthony because he wanted to fit in with the English boys. That is when he really began to rebel.” Victor laughed to himself, obviously remembering some past event. “He was just like his father in so many ways, but all that is for another time. He took Lenore’s surname because he found it amusing to make comparisons between himself and Mark Antony. I think you would call it a good chat-up line. I could never bring myself to tell him just how close to the truth he really was.
“Lenore and I became intimate over the years. I suppose I should have married her, but I never considered it a possibility. I still thought in Roman terms and she was from a far better family than I could ever hope to marry into. She sent me to college when Anthony went to England and I studied to be an archaeologist. She knew by then that I was a quick learner and believed my unique understanding of Roman life already made me better qualified than anyone to work in that field.
“Just before she died, she told me why our arrival was no surprise to her. Her husband had disappeared into the mist for many weeks as you did, but more than once. He would return and then go again many times. Research, he called it, but she believed he became addicted to the exhilaration he felt as he cheated time again and again. She said he went slowly mad from his experiences and the constant time shifts, until he had difficulty remembering where
he was. Eventually he disappeared for good, but not before he told her to expect us. I do not remember ever meeting him, but he told Lenore that a man and a young boy would come to the farm from the past and that she had to help us because we would be unable to help ourselves. She was worried that if she told me sooner I might have tried to go back. She had no idea where or when I would end up, and did not want to think of me suffering the way her husband did. When she died, she left everything jointly to Anthony and to me. The rest you know.”
“Not really. I know you became a tutor on our course and screwed me over. I still don’t know why.” Melissa was still bitter about Victor’s actions on her Master’s course.
“Why? Because you were so brilliant and because I knew what would happen to you if you continued down your chosen path. And it was because Anthony adored you. He was prepared to give up everything if it meant being with you and I could not let him be nothing. I was not prepared to let you break his heart again, which I knew you would when you went back to my time.” Victor began to cough and took a moment to catch his breath. “And I did it for myself. I believed that if I ruined your career before it started, you would never end up in Rome and we would not end up here. I thought that if I could change your future, perhaps I could change my past. Do not mistake me − it is not that I have had a bad life here, but I did not belong in your world any more than you belonged in mine. I wanted to go home.”
“Didn’t you realise that if I never went back, then neither would Rebecca? Anthony would not have been born so I couldn’t have met him at university. I may not be an expert in the mechanics of time travel, but messing with our history that way could have had repercussions for more people than just the four of us.” Melissa was shocked by what she had heard. If Victor had succeeded in changing his future, their lives would have unravelled, along with history as she knew it. She was beginning to feel as if all the time she had spent in the past trying to maintain the future had been irrelevant. She had helped to write that version of the past in the first place, with Victor being the one trying to destroy it by altering the present day.
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