Pello Island: Cassia

by Jambor, A. L.

  Amatus on the Hill

  Amatus walked through the dark city. He listened for the footsteps of thieves and cutthroats coming up behind him. He ran past alleys and darkened shops, and he sighed in relief when he reached the hill unmolested.

  Cicero Gaius lived in a large house near the bottom of the hill. It wasn’t far from the road. The hill had become quite popular with the imperials and was patrolled frequently by the imperial guards. If he were caught on the Palatine, his presence would be suspect. He had to keep to the shadows to avoid the guards.

  Cicero Gaius’ villa was large, and he could see that the lamps were lighted. He crawled through the grass toward the outside wall of the house, and then he stood up next to the wall and inched his way across it until he came to the archway leading into the first courtyard. There were several windows overlooking the courtyard. As he inched his way along the wall, he stopped and looked into the first window.

  The room was a kitchen, and there were slaves working, preparing food. He continued on, passing more windows until he reached the atrium.

  Rome’s decadent nobility were enjoying their leisure. Many of them were half-dressed, cavorting in a manner that disgusted Amatus. There were couples making love right in the middle of the floor. Underneath the window, a man and woman lay on a couch, engaged in a heated argument.

  As Amatus scanned the room, he saw Cicero Gaius sitting on a couch near a wall. He had two young girls on each side of him, fondling them as they cried and tried to pull away from him. Amatus felt a knot growing in his stomach as he watched the disgusting man kiss one of the girls. The other girl looked as though she would be sick. Cicero Gaius then picked up the girl he was kissing and placed her on his lap, pulling her close. She screamed out in pain, but no one came to help her, and Cicero Gaius put his arm around her chest, pinning her arms. He moved behind her, pushing himself inside of her while she cried out over and over. Finally, as he was about to climax, he put his hand around her neck and slowly squeezed. The girl’s legs kicked out in front of her as Cicero squeezed tighter and tighter.

  Suddenly the woman on the couch in front of the window stood up, blocking Amatus’ view. He wanted to yell at her to get out of the way, but he caught himself. He moved along the window, trying to see around her, until finally she moved away and he could see Cicero Gaius once more.

  Cicero Gaius was sitting alone, obviously sleeping. Amatus couldn’t see either girl now, only the fat, drunken slob. He turned around and slid down the wall, sitting on the ground. In all his life, Amatus had never seen anything so depraved. The girl couldn’t have been more than ten years of age, younger than Cassia. He began to cry in frustration. He wished he could climb in the window and kill Cicero Gaius himself.

  As he sat there, he saw two men carrying a small bundle to a wagon. They hitched a horse to it and drove past Amatus, who was concealed by the darkness. Amatus got up and began to follow the wagon, which was traveling at a leisurely pace. Very shortly, he knew where the wagon was going.

  The wagon pulled up along the Tiber, away from the fishing areas. A man got out of the wagon and grabbed the bundle from the back. It couldn’t have been very heavy as he had no trouble taking it to the river and throwing it in. After he left in the wagon, Amatus went to see if he could find out what the man had thrown in the river.

  The man had left too soon. The river had brought the bundle back to the shore, where it rested in the sand. As Amatus approached it, he looked around to be sure no one was watching. When he was satisfied he was alone, he knelt down and opened the end of the sack encasing the bundle. A small hand fell out, and Amatus’ worst fears were realized. He didn’t look any further; he knew it was that poor little girl Cicero Gaius had killed.

  Amatus got up and ran away from the girl’s body. If someone saw him there, he would be hanged, or worse, crucified. When he reached the street, he slowed down, not wanting to draw attention to himself.

  The sky was growing lighter as Amatus made his way to Quintus’ shop. When he arrived, the shop was open and he could see Flavius sweeping the floor.

  “Amatus, what brings you here?” Flavius asked him.

  “I have to speak to Quintus, Flavius. Is he at home?”

  “You think he would speak to you just like that, little fisherman? As it is, he’s not here. He won’t be back for two more days.”

  “Then can I speak to Cassia’s mother?”

  Flavius looked at the earnest young man. “If this has to do with Cicero Gaius, she will be of no help.” Flavius’ face said it all. Cassia’s mother would be more delighted than disturbed to hear anything bad about her daughter’s betrothed.

  “Then I’ll speak to you. I’ve been to Cicero Gaius’ home and I’ve seen his debauchery. We can’t let Cassia marry him.”

  “You’ve witnessed his debauchery and you think that will change Quintus’ mind. Amatus, everyone knows that Cicero Gaius is a debaucher of women, girls, and boys. He uses his slaves for his illicit purposes and then sells them to others to do the same. Quintus is well aware of this, I assure you.”

  “But does Quintus know he kills them?”

  Flavius looked at Amatus, trying to determine if the boy was lying. Amatus looked extremely sincere.

  “What do you mean kills them?”

  “I saw him kill a girl last night. He forced her to sit on his lap and, and he hurt her. I saw him choke her, Flavius. I saw her die. Then one of his men took her body to the river and threw her in. I saw it with my own eyes, Flavius. She couldn’t have been more than ten years old!”

  Flavius sat on the stool. He could see tears in the boy’s eyes, and knew Amatus was telling the truth. Flavius knew the elite were capable of many things but for his own sanity, he didn’t want to think of children being murdered for some old miscreant’s pleasure.

  “Do you want Cassia bound to that?” Amatus’ eyes were pleading with Flavius.

  “No, never.”

  “Then you have to tell Quintus. He has to know. Please, Flavius, tell him what I saw.”

  Flavius sat thinking for several minutes. He wasn’t sure Quintus would believe him, but then he imagined Cassia being taken by brute force at the hands of that libertine, and the image made up his mind.

  “Amatus,” he said, “go home. Get some rest. Tell me, where does Cicero Gaius live?”

  “At the foot of the Palatine, it’s at the bottom, close to the main road. I didn’t see a guard anywhere.”

  “When Quintus comes home, I’ll tell him. I can’t let her go to that house. No title is worth that,” Flavius said.

  Amatus calmed down. He could see the love Flavius felt for Cassia written on his face, and he knew Flavius would fight for her. When he left the shop that morning, he asked Flavius to find him if Quintus refused to listen. Flavius promised he would.

  Amatus walked home with a heavy heart. He’d never seen anything like what he’d witnessed at Cicero Gaius’ villa, and he hoped he never would again. When he got home, he dragged the nets out to the river.

  As he watched his sisters working at the river’s edge, he vowed to watch over them, to protect them from the evil things he’d seen. But more than anything, he vowed to protect Cassia, even if it meant death to Cicero Gaius.

  Aspen, Colorado

  Amatus watched the cocktail waitress as she walked toward him. She had on one of those short little costumes, and her legs were long. She had short blond hair and her eyes smiled underneath a ton of makeup. Still, she was cute.

  “Can I get you anything?” she asked. He was sitting alone in a booth in a dark corner of the lounge, waiting for Janus. For the first time in a very long time, he had dreamt about the girl at the river, the one Cicero Gaius had killed. Why were the Roman memories so clear? It was starting to bug the hell out of him.

  Amatus had been so sure about things then. He was in love with Cassia, and he believed that if he worked hard enough to build his business, her father would one day allow him to marry her. It was the one thing tha
t kept him going. Then Darius came along and everything changed.

  For two thousand years, Darius had kept them all prisoners of the ongoing, endless loop created by a drunken god’s miscalculations. Amatus had given up all hope of one day completing his life. He didn’t trust Darius to do the right thing, ever, and had decided to live on his own from now on. He wouldn’t abandon them financially, only physically. If Cassia called, he would answer, but only if she called.

  Amatus could see Janus walking toward him. Of course, he had to stop and chat up the waitresses on the way. Amatus smiled. At least some things stayed the same.

  “So, Barnaby is it, you’re looking good there, buddy,” Janus said as he slid into the booth. “Could you have picked a darker spot?”

  “I like the dark. Besides, we don’t want anybody hearing us, do we?”

  “You’ve always been paranoid, Barnaby.”

  “Just cautious, Janus. So, what’s up with Dulcia? Has she surfaced yet?”

  “Morta has her under wraps; that’s all I know.”

  “Bullshit, Janus, you know everything about what goes on, you always have. Don’t give me that crap about her being under wraps.”

  “Look, buddy, I really don’t know where she is. I think they’re afraid I’ll spill the beans. Anyway, it’s not your problem, is it? From what I hear, you’re sitting this one out.”

  Amatus sat back, swirling his drink. Yes, he had planned to sit this one out, but he hated not knowing what was going on. He started drumming his fingers on the table.

  “So, then, if he doesn’t get there in time, I just die again, right?”

  “Not this time. Apparently, the Big Guy has given Morta an ultimatum. It works out this time or we’re all locked away in Hades for eternity.”

  Amatus looked at Janus.

  “Bullshit,” he said, “how could he do that? We had nothing to do with what happened. We’re all victims of his dimwitted brother’s stupidity.”

  “Yeah, but we upset the balance of things, remember?”

  “Oh, shut up. If I hear that one more time…”

  “I couldn’t resist. Anyway, the sisters have it worked out. Darius can’t fail this time. I think it’s out of his hands and in Cassia’s.”

  “Yeah, she told me about the marriage thing. Why does she have to marry him?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that one. Why do gay people want to get married? There are certain rights and privileges that go along with being married. I’m not sure how that applies here, but it’s the only thing I can think of.” Janus took a hit off his drink. “You coming back for Christmas?”

  “I told Cassia I would, but I don’t feel like it. But, in the end, I’ll be there.”

  They sat and listened to the sad little three-piece band as it played a mournful rendition of “Cry Me a River.”

  “Jeez, this must be a hot place for depressives,” Janus said, as he put his finger to his head and pulled the trigger.

  Amatus smiled and placed an imaginary noose around his neck and pulled, sticking his tongue out.

  “Let’s get out of here, Barnaby, old pal. There’s a great place down the road with faster music and obliging women.”

  “That actually sounds like a good idea. How long are you staying this time?”

  “Morta gave me the week off. I have to go to Russia, of all places; I have to see one of your former compatriots.”

  “Really, who?”

  Janus hesitated for a moment, not sure he wanted to talk about her.

  “Janus, you’re stalling.”

  “It’s Antonia.”

  “Really? She’s still kicking around?”

  “Yeah, she’s in Russia. She’s pregnant, due any day now. If she lives long enough to raise this one, she’ll go on. It will finally be over for her.”

  “Doesn’t she keep getting killed? I mean, it doesn’t surprise me, she was such a sweetheart,” Amatus said sarcastically.

  “You never really knew her, Barnaby. She wasn’t that bad.”

  “Yeah, just misunderstood. The bitch knew how I felt about Cassia, and she still came on to me. She was doing Darius, for God’s sake.”

  “She was a prostitute, Barnaby, she was doing everybody.”

  “Did she do you, too, Janus?”

  “Let’s change the subject.”

  Janus looked uncomfortable, and Amatus knew he’d hit a nerve. He knew Janus had had a fling with Antonia sometime in the last fifty years, and it must still sting that the husband of the year cheated on his beloved Rhea.

  “Sorry, Janus.”

  “Yeah, well…what do you say we get the check?”

  Amatus signaled the waitress, who brought them the check. He left money and a generous tip, and then he and Janus headed toward the loud music and obliging women.

  For the Love of Little Cassia

  Flavius secured the door to the shop and went to his room. The room was built in a small space between the entrance to Quintus’ house and the back of the shop. It contained a bed and a table, with one chair pushed against the wall. Another small table sat next to the bed where a small oil lamp sat, and a third table held a small water jug and a bowl for washing. There was a small shelf above it.

  Flavius closed the door to his room and walked over to his bed. He lifted the pallet off the frame. Underneath was an old dagger that Flavius had kept from his military service. It was old and rusty, with a long thin blade.

  Flavius picked up the dagger and put it on the table, and took a sharpening stone off the shelf. He checked his water jug and found it was half full. He poured the contents of the jug into the bowl and began to scrape the rust off the blade. As the rust disappeared, gleaming metal showed through. The dagger still had enough meat on it for the job.

  When he was finished honing the blade, Flavius examined it closely for any signs of imperfection. When he was satisfied, he took a piece of cloth and wrapped it around the blade of the dagger. He stuck the knife in his coin pouch and tied it to his belt.

  Flavius waited until it was very late before heading to Palatine Hill. He hoped Amatus’ description had been accurate as he didn’t like the idea of wandering over the Palatine all night. He passed a guard patrolling a street two blocks over. Some of the guards knew Flavius from the shop and they were on friendly terms. For his purposes, he hoped he wouldn’t see one tonight at the Palatine.

  It seemed to take forever, but he finally saw the Hill coming into view. It was very dark, with an overcast sky concealing the moon.

  Flavius walked right up to the first house and casually strolled into the courtyard. He could hear music and laughter coming from inside. If anyone asked, he would say he had been hired to help in the kitchen. As he passed the windows, he found the atrium. He wondered if this was the same party Amatus had witnessed. On a couch at the far side of the room he saw the host. He recognized the fat old bastard as Quintus’ dinner guest. The other guests were quite drunk and preoccupied with the pleasures of the flesh.

  Flavius doubled back to the kitchen and climbed through a window. The slaves were busy, so he went in undetected. Flavius saw a row of platters lining one of the tables and picked one up. He then walked to the main hall.

  The smell in the hall took his breath away. The odor of vomit and urine combined with unwashed bodies made him gag. All around the room were groups of three or more intertwined, while others were dancing, and still others laughed and ate. He made his way through the writhing bodies to the other side of the room, where he put the tray down on a side table and approached the host.

  Cicero Gaius was snoring loudly. His head was back, exposing his flabby neck, and his toga was covered with food and wine. Flavius’ fury grew. As he looked at Cicero Gaius, he still couldn’t believe that Quintus had ever considered giving that sweet girl to him in marriage. He stayed calm. He knew if he let his emotions guide him, he would make a mistake. His military training was serving him well.

  The couch was near the wall, but there was just enough s
pace for Flavius to slide behind it. He looked around the room. No one was watching him; he was just another slave. Flavius slowly slipped behind the couch. The smell of Cicero Gaius was beyond description, so Flavius breathed through his mouth.

  He kept his eyes on the room as he took the dagger out of his coin pouch and unwrapped it. He couldn’t see a slave or a guard anywhere in sight, though he doubted any of them would have cared. He took one more look around the room before placing the dagger on Cicero Gaius’ neck and swiftly moving the blade across his throat. Blood spurted out and Cicero Gaius made a gurgling sound, but he was so drunk he didn’t wake up.

  Flavius slipped out from behind the couch, looked around, and left the room. No one screamed or called after him. He climbed out a window in the hallway and walked toward the street.

  When he got outside, Flavius cleaned the dagger on the grass, wrapped it in the cloth, and put it back in his coin pouch. He still hadn’t heard anyone scream. He walked to the road and kept a leisurely pace as he walked through the city.

  When Flavius reached the shop, he went to his room, took the knife out of his coin pouch, washed it, and placed it under his pallet. The cloth was stained with blood so he put it in the bowl and burned it.

  Quintus would be here in the morning, so Flavius decided he’d better get some sleep. When he lay down on his pallet, he could feel the shape of the knife under his back and he smiled as he drifted off to sleep.

  Cassia woke up with a start—this was to be her wedding day. The day before, she and Novia had gone to the Temple of Juno to give an offering and make a sacrifice. She had prayed to Juno to save her from this horrible marriage. Cassia asked Novia if she believed the goddess had heard her. A strong believer, Novia had her doubts, but she didn’t tell Cassia. She merely said that yes, she believed Juno had heard her and would answer her, even if the answer was no. They walked home slowly, trying to keep time from passing too quickly.