Coventina

by Jamie Antonia

  Paulo dropped them off on Via Panisperna. “Thank you for everything Paulo,” Denise said, handing him a hundred dollar bill.

  “Gracie Dick. Enjoy your dinner. Enjoy your stay in Rome.”

  “We will, thank you.”

  The place did not look like a restaurant from the outside. The inside however embraced them with the luscious smell of Italian food. Before they went inside they changed back to themselves. They were directed to a table for two along the wall. They kept it simple and ordered spaghetti with meatballs.

  Denise discovered that she could make out many words being spoken in Italian after her newly acquired knowledge of Latin.

  “I’m stuffed now. This food is amazing,” Layla said.

  “Ladies, would you care for dessert?” the waitress asked.

  “If we only had room after this amazing meal. Tell me, is it easy to get a taxi once we leave?” Denise said.

  “If you are ready to leave we will call one for you. They get here quickly.”

  “Would you please, we are ready for the check?”

  Once again Denise left a generous tip and they stepped outside to find a taxi waiting.

  “Straight to the Best Western President Hotel please,” Layla said.

  The driver could barely speak English. Denise decided to try something as they zipped through the dark streets back to the hotel. “Quid tempestates ponatur in crastinum?”

  “Qual è il tempo dovrebbe essere come domain? Wuesto é meglio Italiano,” the driver smiled.

  “You understood what I said. Did you study Latin or did you just know being Italian?”

  “Si, I have study Latin. Much Romans have study Latin. But, to speak Italian you can figure out mostly,” he said.

  “Gracie.”

  The taxi came to a quick stop in front of the hotel. Denise paid adding a nice tip and they made it up to their room.

  “Did you notice if the shower was big enough for two?” Denise asked when they were on the elevator.

  “Does it matter?” Layla grinned.

  In the morning they still felt full from the late dinner and made their way to a nearby McDonald’s for a few Café Mocha’s. “I was unaware it would be impossible to find a Starbucks in Italy,” Denise said.

  “I bet they have their own pretty good coffee places wouldn’t you think?”

  “I can’t think yet. I need coffee,” Denise squinted.

  “Oh baby do you ever.”

  Drinks in hand, Denise directed Layla back to the scene of the crime, in hopes of seeing the person who watched as the suitcases were tossed.

  “Think we’ll have any luck?” Layla asked.

  “Oh yeah. We will get an interview.”

  The Mustang pulled up in the driveway to PPL Worldwide, stopped at the gate and waited.

  “Push the button, time’s a wasting,” Denise said.

  Layla pushed the button. The woman’s voice spoke Italian. “Possum adiuvare vos?”

  “Hello, does anyone speak English?” Denise said, leaning towards the driver window.

  “You can rest your head on my shoulder if you like,” Layla whispered.

  “Yes. Can I help you?”

  “We would like to see Raphaela Strutto please?”

  “Proceed through the gate. Someone will meet you at the large doors.”

  “Gracie.” Layla said.

  The thick gate opened and Layla drove back to the large doors as instructed.

  The door opened and a security guard walked over to the car. “You will excuse us for taking these precautions, but we had some men create a disturbance two days ago trying to get in. They too wanted to speak with Raphaela,” he said. “May I see some identification please?”

  They showed him their passports. “We are here on behalf of friends whose family members were abducted. Raphaela reported what she saw that led to the acquisition of their belongings. We were hoping to ask her a few questions,” Denise said.

  “Please park your vehicle against that wall and follow me.”

  “Did anyone get a look at the men who caused the disturbance the other day,” Layla asked as they walked through the modern lobby past the receptionist to an area with some comfortable seating.

  “Yes, and we have images of them on the security tape. When you come to our gate there is a tiny hidden camera in the unit that is activated when you push the button.”

  “Might we be able to get a copy of those to take with us?” Denise asked.

  “I will arrange it.”

  “Have the police received those images as well?”

  “Yes. Please make yourselves comfortable. Raphaela will be right down.”

  “Gracie.”

  “What does Raphaela mean?” Denise asked.

  “God heals,” Layla said.

  A woman with shoulder length black hair stepped off the elevator. “Hello, I am Raphaela,” she said.

  “Denise, and my friend Layla. Is it okay to talk here?”

  “Yes. I don’t have much to tell actually.”

  “Why not just tell us what you saw,” Layla said.

  “I was standing at the window in my office on the top floor. A white taxi pulled up just past the clearing beyond the trees on our side of the road. The driver jumped out and walked quickly to the trunk, opened it, and threw two suitcases into the bushes before quickly getting back in the car and speeding off.”

  “You mentioned something about being able to make out who was in the back seat?” Layla said.

  “Yes. There were clearly two young women struggling in the back seat with a male on each side of them. One of them turned her head so far as they were speeding away I could see her face. The look on her face is something I cannot stop in my mind.”

  “Could this be the woman you saw turn her head in that back seat?” Denise said.

  “I would say there is a high probability that the woman in this photo and the one in the back seat of that taxi are the same person.”

  “Raphaela, the security guard told us about some men that were not let in who were here a few days ago wanting to speak to you. Can you tell us anything about that?”

  “I was not at work the day they were here. I have been told they were not Italian, and that they were rude, and seemed very angry.”

  “You realize there is a good possibility that they are the same men who were in that taxi don’t you?”

  “I have thought of that. I do not know how they would have gotten my name or even know anyone reported what they saw that allowed the police to claim the possessions of those two women.”

  “I can imagine,” Layla said. “Please do not take this personal, but I believe these two women were abducted into the sex slavery trade. The only people who knew of your report were you and anyone you might have told here or out of work, and the police. The research I have done of sex slavery abductions in Italy is that they happen a lot, and that quite often the police know these low life’s who do this, that they are on their payroll to look the other way and allow it to continue.”

  “I have thought about this. How else could they have gotten my name?”

  “Is there somewhere you can stay other than where you normally do?” Layla asked.

  “I already have. I live alone. When I heard that these men were here looking for me I arranged to stay with a friend.”

  “Do not travel alone for a little while,” Layla said.

  “The security guard drives me home and stops up to make sure no one is there waiting.”

  “How do you get to work?”

  “He picks me up. I think he likes me,” she blushed.

  “Good.” Layla said.

  “Ah, here is my bodyguard now,” Raphaela said, motioning to the opening elevator door.

  “Here you are, as promised. They are not the best images but not that bad either,” he said, handing Layla an envelope with four images of the men who showed up at the gate days before.

  “Thank you. Raphaela, this is a number you can reach us a
t if you think of anything else, or if you need help with anything,” Denise said.

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t hesitate to call us if you need help with anything,” Layla said.

  “I will, thank you again.”

  “You are a brave woman Raphaela. Thank you for all your help,” Denise smiled.

  The guard escorted them out to the Mustang. “Here you are,” Denise said, handing him an envelope with some cash in it. “Take yourself and Raphaela to dinner or something.”

  “Gracie.”

  “What’s your name?” Layla asked.

  “Giacomo Tomasino.”

  “Thanks for everything Giacomo.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thank you.”

  As they drove back to Rome, Denise opened the envelope and looked at the photographs. When she got to the third image and looked at the face of the man sitting in the passenger seat, she saw an image of Coventina, perhaps still in the clothing she wore for the trip, bound and gagged and looking up at someone terrified before the first blow hit her across the face.

  “Receiving, again?”

  “I am going to tell Lucilla to inform Quintus and the others to bring weapons,” Denise said as she dialed Lucilla’s number.

  18

  Palatium

  Lucilla and the legionnaires were deposited near the ruins of the Stadium of Domitian on Palatine Hill. Surprisingly there was not a tourist to be seen where they landed at two in the afternoon Rome time. Lucilla could see the shock and disbelief on the faces of the six men, feeling Marcus’ grip on her hand tighten briefly.

  “This is all that is left, ruins?” Marcus asked.

  “We are standing atop the Palatium,” Lucilla said. “Nearly 2000 years have changed the buildings and monuments that you built, but this is by no means all that is left of Rome.”

  “All that man makes crumbles over time,” Quintus said. “We might never have gotten this close to the splendor that was Palatium when we were last here. We were not royalty or members of the Praetorian Guard.”

  “No we were not. We simply made this all possible,” Venutius said.

  “Yes, you all did,” Lucilla smiled.

  Denise and Layla appeared from behind the ruin of a wall. “Grata Romae,” Denise said.

  “Gratias agimus tibi,” Lucilla said.

  “Do you want to take in the sites and make it to the hotel later?” Denise asked.

  “They appear to be somewhat overwhelmed with the emotion of nothing but ruins left of their empire, well the physical empire anyway. I will ask.”

  “We are staying here,” Layla said, handing Lucilla the name and address to the hotel.

  “You know, this entire area is fenced in from the street level. I’m not sure we are even supposed to be up here,” Denise said.

  “It does look somewhat deserted. How do we get down?”

  “Follow us. There is a spot near where we are parked where you can climb down and over the fence easily.”

  They all followed Layla back to Via Dei Cerchi where the Mustang was parked. Layla was the first to land back on the sidewalk to passersby looking astonished as Denise followed, then Marcus and Quintus who helped Lucilla get down. They were then followed by the remaining legionnaires. When Petilius made it to the sidewalk a police car pulled up.

  “What do you think you are doing up there? That is a restricted area,” one of the policemen asked in Italian.

  Marcus moved to stand next to Lucilla, the other legionnaires forming a line in front of them.

  “Apologies, we did not know no one was allowed to see those ruins,” Lucilla replied.

  “What is this, your body guard? Step aside and let the woman talk,” the officer said.

  “Etiam purus. At ego illud,” Denise said to the legionnaires.

  “Do you speak English?” Denise asked.

  “Ah, e Americani. Se le cifre.”

  “I got the American part but what did he say exactly?” Denise said.

  “It figures. They do not like American tourists apparently,” Layla said.

  How would I say you don’t care about what we did, let us go and leave? Denise asked.

  Wow. Non ti importa di quello che abbiamo fatto, andiamo a lasciare. Layla said.

  Denise repeated the message in the mind of the irritated officer. He walked back to the car and they left.

  “Interesting. Did you just do that?” Lucilla asked.

  “Yes. English wasn’t working,” Denise laughed.

  “Quintus, walk with us,” Denise said. He followed her and Layla back to the car.

  “There is something we need you and your men for, but not until nightfall,” Layla said.

  “Will we be going into battle Denise?”

  “No, at least I hope not.”

  “You may run into some men that need to be physically disciplined though,” Layla said. “I did.”

  “Lucilla, we will meet you back at the hotel when you have finished taking some of this splendor in,” Denise said.

  “Here, let us take your luggage, you don’t want to have to carry this around all day,” Layla said.

  “Thank you Layla.”

  “It is a beautiful day,” Denise smiled.

  “It is indeed,” Lucilla said.

  Denise and Layla got back in the Mustang and drove off.

  “Well, since I am a tourist, let’s start with something I am sure you are familiar with,” Lucilla said. She hailed a taxi and they all piled in. “Colosseum please.”

  The lines were too long to get in, so they walked around the outside of the arena remembering.

  “Much of the destruction you see was natural, from massive earthquakes in the past,” Lucilla said.

  “We were all in here at one time or another,” Marcus said. “Petilius was addicted to the games.”

  “Did the games always involve blood and dying?” Lucilla asked, pausing to touch the outer façade.

  “Yes,” Quintus said.

  They continued up the Via Dei Fori Imperiali reminiscing. Lucilla marveled at some of the structures that were still very much in tact, clearly ancient ruins but still standing and clearly visible in their original splendor.

  Hey, they are not carrying swords under those cloaks are they? Denise asked.

  Ha. No. They are in the luggage.

  If the laws in Italy are anything like the states they are not legal to carry.

  Thank you Denise, Lucilla laughed.

  “No matter where our travels take us, I am coming back here to see everything,” Lucilla said. “I can only imagine the splendor of it all 2,000 years ago.”

  “It was magnificent. We must have seemed like visitors from another world to some of the people we conquered,” Marcus said. “Look.”

  Lucilla turned to see Venutius and Odumnus communicating with two women.

  “Perhaps they know Latin,” Lucilla smiled.

  “Perhaps,” Marcus laughed.

  When they had seen enough, they decided to make it to the hotel. Quintus seemed anxious to perhaps be put to good use in their search after speaking to Denise earlier.

  Petilius hailed a taxi.

  “Very good,” Lucilla giggled. “You are fitting into the 21st century well Petilius.”

  He laughed as they all piled into the taxi and headed to the hotel.

  19

  Gladius

  Lucius unsheathed his sword and tossed the scabbard onto the bed. His eyes moved from it to Layla sitting next to Venutius. “State of the art weaponry for the day, I must say,” she said.

  “I am not sure what that means, but it saved my life and many others many times,” Lucius said.

  “It looks heavy.”

  Lucius motioned to Venutius and he offered his sword to Layla. “Careful, it is very sharp,” Venutius said.

  Layla removed the blade from the scabbard, marveling at the craftsmanship.

  “So, do you think it is heavy?” Lucius asked.

  “Not at
all. It is well balanced and seems just the right size for close battle.”

  “Very good Layla. In the heat of a big battle, when you are in close, the last thing you want is a sword that is too long,” Venutius smiled.

  “It seemed the perfect design for slashing and stabbing,” Lucius said.

  “Did a shield hinder you?”

  “Most of the time it kept you alive, but in the midst of a heated battle often they were tossed aside to be able to wield the sword freely. Usually by then you were able to obtain another sword from a fallen comrade and that made you even more dangerous,” Venutius said.

  “You have the look of a warrior,” Lucius said.

  “Thank you, I will take that as a compliment,” Layla said.

  Lucius motioned for her to stand up. “Some basics.”

  “Okay.” Layla stood up and stood within a few feet of Lucius.

  “Watch me.” Lucius went through a few basic moves, describing them as he did.

  “May we practice without my being run through?” Layla laughed.

  Lucius motioned her towards him. “Attack me.”

  Layla came at him as if practicing. He easily blocked each movement she made with the sword.

  “You see what I am doing?” Lucius asked.

  “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

  “Now, attack me as if the life of Inquilina was at stake.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  She looked back at Venutius who motioned for her to go after him wearing a smile on his face.

  Layla turned from him and attacked Lucius who found it increasingly difficult to control the fight. They moved across the entire large room and over the bed, the sound of steel meeting steel. Venutius called it a draw, laughing loudly.

  “You’ve used a sword before?” Lucius said.

  “Sword, no. Sticks with my younger brother at home, yes.”

  She turned towards Venutius to return his sword to him when he called out, “Layla, defend yourself.”

  Instinctively, she created a force field around herself causing the sword in Lucius’ hand to harmlessly glance off of it.

  “Are you a goddess?” Lucius asked.

  “Anything but,” Layla said.

  “Every legionnaire carries a scar from that lesson,” Venutius grinned, showing his on the upper left arm.

  “And the lesson is?”

  “Never turn your back on an enemy,” Lucius said.

  “Good lesson.” She lowered her field. “I think a scar would be a good reminder to carry about this lesson.” She offered her left arm and pointed to where Lucius’ sword would have made contact. “Please.”