by L. Todd Wood
DELTA
By
L. Todd Wood
Copyright © 2014 L. Todd Wood.
All rights reserved worldwide.
Published by IceBox Publishing at Smashwords.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
To the three musketeers, Oliver, Graham, and Audrey
"Two Romes have fallen. The third stands. And there will be no fourth. No one shall replace your Christian Tsardom!"
Letter composed by the Russian monk Philotheus in 1510 to their son Grand Duke Vasilli III
delta, noun, Mathematics,
an incremental change in a variable, as Δ.
Prologue
She was thirty-eight years old and a virgin. Her parents had seen to that. They had selected her when she was only ten to be the guardian of the flame. Her life was laid out in front of her before it even started. It had not been a bad life; in fact, it was quite pleasurable. She was worshipped and held a very high position in Roman society. She even had her own box at the Coliseum with the five other virgins. But, as with the clouds in the sky, things always change.
Julia and the five Vestal Virgins guarded the flame in the Temple of Vesta. The virgins and their ancestors had guarded the flame for a thousand years. The temple was a fifteen-meter-wide, circular edifice in the Foro Romano, supported by twenty Corinthian columns. It was one of the oldest structures in Rome and was used to store important records and business documents for safekeeping. There was an opening to the east pointing towards the sun, the origin of fire. The flame burned continuously inside. It was said that if the flame ever went out, Rome would fall. The year was 298 AD. Vesta was the goddess of fire, the goddess of the hearth—the fire that kept an ancient home alive. She had been worshipped originally in the circular huts the Roman tribes built in the area, hence the circular design of the temple. The goddess kept Rome alive as long as they kept their covenant with her to keep the flame burning. At least, that was what the people were led to believe.
Julia also had a covenant with Rome, although not of her choosing. Her parents had offered her as a virgin to guard the flame when she was ten. The virgins came from very high-placed families in Roman society. It was an honor to have a daughter selected to guard the Temple of Vesta. In return for thirty years of celibacy, upon their fortieth birthday, the virgins were allowed to marry and received a huge dowry from the state. They had statues made in their likeness that were placed in the gardens around the temple. However, if a virgin broke her vow of celibacy to the Empire, the consequences were dire.
The Vestal Virgins lived in a multi-room structure right outside of the temple. The site was the most holy in Roman culture and was placed squarely in the center of Foro Romano, where it all began. This was where the first tribes of the ancient valley met to trade along the lowlands of the river. It was where Romulus was suckled by the she-wolf after being abandoned by his parents. Any free Roman citizen could take the fire to his home, and the temple therefore represented the hearth of Rome.
It was early evening when the visitor came to call on Julia. He was a younger man, a servant dressed in servant's clothes, and quite handsome. She met him at the gate to the temple grounds to talk after he had sent a request into the College of the Vestals to speak with her. The senator’s aide could come no further. “Tonight at midnight, Senator Thor will pay you a visit. He has something to give you, something that needs to be guarded, even from the emperor himself. This is the safest place in Rome. Please meet him.” The visitor left without explaining further. Julia was left wondering at the gate for some time but finally retired to her room.
Julia was troubled. She would have to be very careful. This meeting was very dangerous for both her and the senator. She knew things were changing in Rome. The corruption was rampant. The emperor was claiming for himself more and more power. The Roman order and process that had survived for centuries was giving way to raw corruption and tyranny.
The Senate had long been relegated to the periphery. Originally the body had been set up by the early Roman kings and came from the historical group of elders the tribes organized to help govern themselves. In fact, the word senate is derived from the Latin word, senex, which means old man. Once Rome became a republic, the power of the Senate grew exponentially. However the republic was long gone. All power was now held by the emperor. No longer was he seen as an equal to the average citizen in Rome; he was a god. However, he was becoming more and more corrupt, cut off from communication with his subjects and events throughout the Empire. He received information filtered by his court with which he constantly feared revolt and death. His actions were not those of one concerned about the future of the Empire, but of one concerned with staying in power. While he concentrated on giving out favors, the barbarians advanced to the north.
Night fell. At the appropriate time, Julia rose from her bed and left her chambers, moving as quietly as possible. She made her way out into the warm night. She could see the light from the flames of the hearth in the Temple of Vesta licking the ceiling of the ancient structure. She was scared. However, she trusted the senator and knew he was a good man; she would meet him despite the danger.
She made her way silently across the garden between the wading pools and stopped near the stone fence on the other side. Her white evening clothes stood out like a ghost under the full moon. The cicadas sang a rhythmic song of joy to the white orb in the sky. The Roman Forum was silent.
“Julia,” a voice whispered. “I am here.” She turned and walked toward the sound. The senator stepped from the shadows. “Thank you for coming,” he said softly. He was old, probably over seventy, which was ancient for a Roman man. His eyes were flanked by deep crevices in his skin and his hair was a wispy white. He walked with a pronounced stoop. He was dressed in a tunic made of expensive cloth with large colorful stripes, identifying him as a Senator.
“I came as you requested. What is so important? I cannot stay long," Julia declared.
“I don’t have much time," he said and handed her a small, stone tube typically used to store documents. It was capped at both ends and sealed. “You must guard this with your life. It is the past and the future of Rome. Do not place it in the temple with all of the other royal documents. Keep it with you at all times. Tell no one. It is safe here I believe. No one will bother you. When you are older, pass it on to one of the other virgins with a sacred oath to guard it with her life as I request you to do.”
She took the container. It was surprisingly light. There was a lanyard attached at both ends. She put the cord around her neck, and the scroll dangled between her breasts. She moved it under her night clothes so it could not be seen. “I will do as you ask,” she replied, “because I believe you are a good man that wants what’s best for Rome. I have seen you fight to restore Rome to its former glory and justice. I trust you.” Julia had heard of the Senator's reputation as being kind and wise, although they had never met in person. She looked him in the eyes one last time then looked around the courtyard, frightened that she would be discovered. “I must go.”
With that reply she turned and walked back across the gardens. The senator disappeared into the night. What neither of them saw was another young girl, barely fourteen, also in a white night dress in the garden, hiding behind a column at the Temple of Vesta. She was Cornelia, one of the other five virgins. She had been guarding t
he flame through the night. Cornelia was still young but quite adamant in her opinion of herself and the importance of her role in Roman society. She was new to the temple and rather passionate about her duties. Cornelia was also an budding woman and felt subconsciously angry about not being able to talk to the young boys she frequently saw looking at her. She was jealous of the other girls in society and really quite angry about it. She knew that it was not permitted to meet male Romans without a chaperon, especially at night and decided to take her anger out on Julia as it was the only avenue she had, however misguided. Had Julia broken her vow of celibacy to the Temple? She would need to report this to the authorities. She was certain she would be well rewarded by the emperor.
The next day, Julia rose late in the morning after a fitful sleep. She had not slept well after the meeting with the senator, and sleeping with the scroll draped around her neck would take some getting used to. She moved to the window and drew the curtain to let in some light. Strange, her morning servant was not next to her when she woke. That had never happened before. Her servant had taken care of her every need flawlessly for years. Since she had slept late, she was hungry. There was no breakfast by her bed either as she had grown accustomed to over the last twenty-eight years. A twinge of fear rose up her spine. She walked to the door to the outside chamber and opened it.
Her heart melted in terror as she saw the Praetorian guards outside of her sleeping quarters, waiting for her. The ten soldiers were in full ornamental battle gear and had no thoughts of allowing this girl to get away after the emperor's instructions. The emperor had a habit of decimating soldiers he surmised were not loyal. The practice consisted of killing one in ten men in a unit in order to ensure discipline. No, they would not let her get away. In fact they would enjoy this task.
“No, please, I can explain!” she shrieked and dropped to the floor, sobbing. Denouncing a virgin for incest against the state was a serious offense. The emperor used this opportunity shrewdly to blame this treason for his recent failures in battle and deflect blame from himself.
The guards picked her up off the ground and tied her hands behind her back. “It is too late for you; it has already been decided. You have broken your vow to Rome and the Temple of Vesta.” Julia screamed in horror, as she knew what was awaiting her. She wailed as they dragged her by the hair from her bedroom and out of the College of Virgins. The pain added to her fear but was nothing compared to what she was about to experience.
The soldiers carried her to the cobblestone road outside the temple grounds in the center of Foro Romano. The crowds had already gathered, as the word had spread fast of what was to happen. This was even better entertainment than the gladiators in the Coliseum. No one wanted to miss the show. They were used to the emperor providing routine ghoulish spectacles to distract attention from their miserable and declining living conditions. The crowd was excited.
First she was whipped by a thick cane fifty times. The back of her white clothes became stained with blood. She was close to unconsciousness but hoisted onto a funeral cart and tied to a stake emanating from the center. A pail of cold water was thrown in her face to wake her up in order to enjoy the procession. Soon she was again screaming in horror and shock at what was happening. She had done nothing wrong! She had been true to Rome; she no longer even had any sexual feelings. Those had vanished long ago. She had been true to her oath. But today it didn’t matter.
The cart wound its way through the center of the ancient city and slowly made its way outside of the massive walls to the place where the dead were buried, to the Campus Sceleratus, a small rise near the gate. Roman citizens lined the streets to witness the spectacle. Some were empathetic and sad, others were enjoying the cruel procession and used the occasion to start another decadent binge of drinking, drugs, and sex. The corruption of the Roman ethos was almost complete.
Julia had fainted with shock in the now hot sun. Her head hung limp on her shoulder as her body was supported by the cords strapping her to the pole. Soon the procession stopped. Another bucket of cold water from the nearby aquifer was thrown on her to wake her up. She looked up and hoped she had awoken from a nightmare but stood in shock as she realized it was not the case.
Her parents and family were screaming and crying behind a wall of soldiers protecting the executioner. The wealthy family, once close to the emperor’s court, would now be banished. Their lives changed forever. They would be lucky to escape with their lives and would soon be making hurried plans to flee the city.
The soldiers untied her from the cart and dragged her by her bound hands to the hillside below. The ropes around her wrists and the rocks on the ground cut into her skin. She pleaded with them to listen to the truth, but they ignored her. They led her to an open tomb. They stopped in front of the crypt, and a Roman judge walked up to her and began to speak.
“You have broken your sacred vow to Rome. You will now accept the consequences of your pleasure of the flesh.” At this point, Julia was too weak to protest. The soldiers walked into the crypt and placed an oil lamp on one of the slabs next to a decaying body. The air smelled of death as one of the bodies was fresh from burial a week before. The soldier adjusted the wick and lit the lamp. Beside the lamp he placed a loaf of bread and a cup of water. Then they brought Julia into the tomb and pushed her to the floor. She was mumbling in an incomprehensible manner.
The rock was then moved to close the tomb. The last vestige of light twinkled out as the stone was rolled across the opening. Julia’s voice was drowned out to the outside world, and her screams whispered like death on the wind.
No one noticed the richly dressed man standing in the crowd. If they did notice, they did not speak to him. The power emanating from his stature made it clear he was not to be spoken to, although no one recognized him as a local. He was dressed in a way which was foreign to Roman society, but it was obvious he was a man of sophistication. If they had noticed him, they would have seen he was smiling.
One hundred years later, Emperor Theodosius I extinguished the fire in the hearth of the Temple of Vesta as he proclaimed it inconsistent with Christianity, now the official religion of Rome. A few years later, Rome fell to the barbarians.
Chapter One
The words just wouldn’t come. He sat at the wooden table on the old, rickety, spindle chair, his eyes attempting to focus on the laptop. The chair creaked beneath him. He had been meaning to buy something new to sit on, but in reality he just couldn’t part with an old friend. It had been two months, and it was now like they were married. His body had molded a depression in the soft wood of the seat. How could he get a new chair? It was not going to happen.
The words still wouldn’t come. Sometimes when he started to write, the words gushed out of him like a hot geyser, not tonight. He leaned forward on his elbows into the table and stared at the blue and white screen. He began to make out the pixels in the coloring. The table swayed slightly below him with the force of his weight and screamed in pain. Nothing. Today was not going to be the day he made progress. He just didn’t know where to take the story. He needed inspiration.
So inspiration it would be. Rafe stood up. He wavered slightly as he stood and grabbed the table to steady himself. Glancing at the bottle of Chianti on the table, he could see it was half empty. Another dead soldier stood next to it. He should have been really drunk, but he wasn’t. A couple bottles of wine a day saw to that. His tolerance was impressive.
Next to the first bottle was a picture of his kids. I miss them, bad. He turned away and pushed the thought out of his mind. Actually, I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time! And he really was. The divorce had been over for six months now. Oh, of course he still had the raging phone calls, usually in the evening when she was drunk. But the good thing was he didn’t have to be in the same room anymore. He had been taught not to hit a woman. So he had taken it—for years. It almost destroyed him. No more.
Rafe made his way confidently to the balcony door as he had been doing for two
months now and opened it. The smell of the sea embraced him like a foggy morning. But it was evening. The sun was setting. The sun was setting on Venice. His balcony overlooked one of the canals meandering off the main drag. He could hear the taxi boats plodding along, their engines sounding like a growling lion. It seemed they never stopped. Venice, like any major city, had an extensive public transport system, except hers was on water. Luckily his building was tall, taller than most around him, and his view was spectacular from the top floor. He could see the clock tower in St. Mark’s Square in the distance. The balcony was quite large, and he had started a nice collection of herbs and other plants growing in the Venetian sunlight and salty air. It was a heavenly location for a writer. It was just what Rafe had needed to find some peace. He just wanted to write and be left alone for a while.
He turned and made his way back across the main room to the exit and started down the several flights of stairs, emerging along the canal into the evening shortly after. It was going to be a beautiful night. The gondolas for hire were taking full advantage of the perfect conditions for a moonlit cruise. After a few twists and turns and five minutes later, he arrived at his favorite restaurant along the water. The nightlife here was fantastic. It was when the real Venetians came out to play, avoiding the horde of tourists during the day.
Rafe sat at a table in the outdoor seating area and soon a waiter was describing to him in Italian the specials for the evening. He understood only half of what was said but shook his head in agreement. "Surprise me," he said in English. The waiter smiled and started shouting instructions to the chef as only an Italian could do. Soon the food starting coming and didn't seem to stop.
