The forgotten Roman part 2

Itticuss opened his eyes, disorientated and confused to where he was. The sound of water and rustling tree limbs filled his ears as his mind came into the reality of his situation. Itticuss really had no idea where he was, his memories were so vivid. He brought his hand up to a rising sun and shaded his eyes, for the light beaming through the trees. He sat as the brightness of the coming morning filled the countryside of Italia and he suddenly felt as if he was a man standing in a crowd of people yelling to be seen, but he did not want to be seen not in his state. He got up and looked around knowing that he was very vulnerable out there in the countryside of Rome. I need to stay put in this light, I must only travel under the cover of darkness, he thought to himself.

As he attempted drag himself out of the light of the day and into the darkness of the trees his pain flooded back to him. It was as if dozens of tiny blades had been pushed into the flesh of his belly and there was not a thing he could do to stop the stabs. The pain almost like a stranger he could not see but knew might return at any moment to do wrong. 

The rag on his belly had been soaked with his blood. He reached up grabbed a hold of a tree branch and pulled himself up to his feet. Itticuss took his bandage off and crawled into the water of the river. The water cold and brisk flooded over his body, blood washed off him and down the stream. Itticuss watched it swirl red in the current as it ran downstream. He let the cold water splash onto his body rinsing the gaping hole clean. The waves of pain attacked him over and over again, gritting his teeth he got out of the water and kneeled to wash his bandage and shirt, but felt the unwelcome stranger appear to him once again, and the massive pain was there as his muscles strained.

Itticuss closed his eyes afraid to open them hoping this would all fade away as If it was a bad dream brought on by a sour meal to late in the day. He folded his arms over his bleeding chest and laid his head against the ruff bark of a tree as his steed drank from the river. Hours later his stomach rumbled with hunger. He had no food in his stomach but he knew that his wanting stomach would have go without for some time. Time was slipping away and he could not worry about food. Soon the night would come and Itticuss could head back to my village outside of Rome. Closing his eyes, the blackness took him over again but this time no images flooded to his mind. His body felt heavy as if it would sink into the ground that held him. He drifted and slept for a few hours and when he opened his eyes the sun had set and the darkness had taken over the woods by the river. The sound of the nighttime animals and the flowing water echoed in the night and Itticuss pulled himself to his feet.

Itticuss let the large horse lead the way. He bounced down a dirt trail worn down by the many travelers in and out of the city of Rome. His horse knew only too well, the road to the city. The animal could see much better through the darkness than Itticuss could by far. As Itticuss’ traveling brought him closer and closer to the hills of Rome he began feel as if he had forgotten something important to do in his life. But he could not for the life of him think upon what it could be. A sensation of confusion and bewilderment fell over him. He felt that he had left his village to fight for his city and even though he had done just that he was sure he had been punished by the gods, Did he do something wrong? Maybe he should go and see if this has happened to anyone else in the past. Itticuss soon put such thoughts out of his head as he knew what such talk would only bring him to an unfavorable end. Itticuss felt confused and lost with only one place to go. 

The brightness of the moon was soon blocked out by a group of cloud invading the night sky and seemed to loom over Itticuss for several moments. The road was hard to see in the night but the moon was getting brighter with every moment. His four-legged friend seemed happy to let Itticuss guide her.

Well before dawn Itticuss saw the familiar sights of Rome. After riding through the outer villages he made his way to a steep hill and to the main gates of the city. The gentle wind blew through the narrow streets of the city. Many olive trees that colored the side of the road swayed in the breeze and brushed against his face as he rode by. Itticuss looked up into the sky where the moon was hiding behind the clouds again. He could not see much of his beloved city but as he grew closer Itticuss saw the faint outline of the capital building.

As he rode through her gates, the city seemed to be asleep. A blanket of blackness had been laid over the city, the merchants were not yet up and he only could see the glow of eyes in the darkest part of the streets, eyes of predators. Animals on the hunt for their next easy weaken meal. The horse did not shy when a small rat scurried across its path. Itticuss could see the faint outline of wooden crates that would become merchant tables by morning. Just a few hours ago venders and merchants, and traders of all kinds, filled this place and the scent of goods and the smell of seafood still hung in the air.

The horse stood still while Itticuss dismounted down onto a mud covered road that only a few hours from now would be heavily trekked on. He grabbed her by the leather reins and led her through the silent streets headed toward the Aquileia where he had spotted a man dressed in a black cloak. For a quick second he had thought the man was death come to retrieve him for the mistake of not taking him to the afterlife. The man was young and had little facial hair on his chin. The two met eyes as they past one another. Itticuss stared at the man for a moment, and then in the blink of his eye the man was gone. After a moment Itticuss wiped the thought from his head and moved on as the man disappeared.  When Itticuss came to the Aquileia temple he dropped the reins and like a good warhorse she stood her ground. Itticuss turned down the Roman Forum and climbed the steps of the forum. He walked slowly down its short stone walkway to see the Oppius peak of Esquiline Hill and the outskirts of his village. A long windy dirt and mud covered road led to his home. The temple was a high long walkway with a heavy ceiling held up by pillars of limestone, almost as tall as four men.

Several torches burned up and down the streets on that dark night in the city. As Itticuss made his way down the walkway he could see the outskirts of his village and the road he would take me the short home.

The horse and Itticuss rode up to his village and he left the horse standing outside under the cover of darkness then took the first unsure steps into the village. He felt uneasy as he walked into the opening of his village as if he were a boy about to be scalded by his abusive father. As soon as Itticuss entered the courtyard he could see something was not right. The village was unusually quiet and the courtyard was empty. Itticuss walked straight over to the door of his home, and gave a soft knock not wanting to wake his sons. When the door flew open and a woman covered with cuts and scrapes stood in the doorway. It was his wife, but not as he had known her. Her eyes were swollen and puffy. Itticuss looked down and saw that her hands, they were wrapped in rags. She stared as if she did not recognize him.

“Atia, what has happened?”

“Things are not what they seem,” she exclaimed. She looked at him hard in the eyes and said, “Are you my love?” she looked at him with one of her eyes twitching back and forth. Her hair a tattered mess as she scrapped at her body with her rag covered hands. She reached out and grabbed hold of his manhood, Itticuss pushed her back a little. She looked up at him and asked in a stiff voice, “Would you like me to sing for you?” His eyes turned from their concerned shape into a frown as his lip began to quiver and shake. He felt guilt suddenly as he looked upon his poor wife no crazed before his eyes.

Itticuss looked at her and was baffled. Itticuss replied again, “My dear wife, what has happened to you?”

She was someone lost.

“She has gone mad from the death of her husband,” said a voice from behind Itticuss. Itticuss turned around and saw every man in my village walking towards him. Men he had known all his life holding torches and farming tools.

“You are not welcome in this village,” warned one of the villagers. “You will not take her to the underworld with you.” 

“But it’s me, Itticuss, each and every one of you knows me,” Itticuss stated to them, stepping out of the doorway of his home.

“You are not him, I know Itticuss. Yes, you look like him, but you are not him. Longus sent word that Itticuss was killed in battle,” said an old farmer.

“Itticuss was a good man and friend of this village. You are not him, you are some kind of demon to trick his wife into the underworld and the blackness of death,” yelled someone from the mob.

Itticuss believing the words for a moment looked around his home confused and disoriented. Was he a demon, did he really die and get reborn as some creature from the depths of the underworld or something even far worse. He did not know the answer, but he knew in his heart he was still a good man He then shook the feeling off and knew this was his home and where he belonged. He looked at all of them and said, “Where are my sons?”

“The sons of Itticuss Cacuss are safe from you. This village will protect every member to the death.” At that they all ran at him, yelling, as they charged with their weapons held high in to the air. The ground shook and a cloud of dust kicked into the air as the mob charged Itticuss. His eyes widen as he realized he would have to defend himself against the own members of his home.

“Kill the demon,” one man yelled as he ran at him with a wooden pickaxe. Itticuss stepped to the side with little effort as the farmer thrust his weapon past Itticuss’ body. With a grasp of his hand Itticuss had a hold of the weapon in his right hand and backhanded the man with his left, and then bringing his left forearm down hard, Itticuss snapped his weapon in half. Kicking the man to the ground with his right foot Itticuss slowed their charge a little. Itticuss suddenly heard the panic screams of his wife, Atia as he fought the villagers. She ran from his home in his direction. She tried to push towards Itticuss as if she suddenly recognized Itticuss. Many members of the village grabbed her and forced her back into her home away from the sight of Itticuss. Itticuss wanted to run to her side and that of his children who he knew needed their father but a self preservation took him over he ran for the hills of Rome. Itticuss took his moment and ran out of the village, he ran as fast as he could but his wound in my stomach slowed him just enough for one man to catch up with him and grab hold of his shoulder. Itticuss stopped and turned around as fast as he could and thrust the broken wood pickaxe into the chest of the man. It was not until that moment that Itticuss realized who the man was. He was his neighbor a good friend and companion. The man’s eyes widen and his mouth dropped open as if he was gasping for more air than he needed in his longs. Itticuss watched as he grabbed his chest.

“I’m sorry my friend,” Itticuss whispered as he watched his eyes turned white, and his life drain out of his body.

He died right there on the dirt. Itticuss leaned over his body for a moment gathering strength before he saw them. Itticuss was about to have the mob on top of him within moments. Itticuss staggered up then ran for the opening of the village as fast as he could. As soon as he made it through the entrance he could see the Captain’s horse waiting for him. She braced herself as Itticuss threw his body across her back. Itticuss grunted loudly and then slapped her side. He felt his stomach shiver in pain as watched the mob of the village run over the hill at him, then suddenly the animal rod off. The horse ran faster and faster. As Itticuss looked behind him he could see the distant mob running after him. Once Itticuss was clear of the village, he pulled himself up right onto the animal.

Confused and terrified Itticuss rode as fast as he could. Itticuss had no idea where he was going. The horse ran fast down the streets of Rome and Itticuss grabbed a torch when he passed close to one. The horse rode him through the deserted streets and he finally got to the outskirts of the city where Itticuss pulled the horse to a slow walk. He could not believe what just happened. Am I really dead and from some demon realm? His head got light and Itticuss felt the blood drain from his face as the shocking thought of him killing my good friend plagued his mind. Itticuss thought on his poor wife and his children. Itticuss thought, how could I be part of their lives now? I hope they would be taken care of. His mind raced back and forth, my poor wife, she’s lost her mind. What is wrong with me? My friends, I grew up with them and have lived in that village most of my life. Now I’m not even welcome in the home that I helped build. I’ve farmed this land most of my life and now I’ve lost it. I can’t be a demon like they said. This is some kind of mistake. Why would the gods that I have served so long have turn their backs to me like this?

Am I really some undead thing? What is to become of my family now? Even if I could get to them what kind of life could I offer them? My wife, my love, what of her mind? Itticuss got on to his knees and closed his eyes to speak to his gods. He prayed for the sanity of his wife to return.

Itticuss’ prayers were not answered. His stomach still bled, “What is wrong with me?” he yelled out into the night sky as he pulled a knife out of his belt and pushing the blade deep into my neck Itticuss spilled his blood in a vain attempt to end his life. The dark red blood poured out of him and on to the horse. The horse looked up at him as the wetness of blood spilled onto the soft main of the animal. His lungs heaved and his heart pumped his blood faster and fast trying to keep it in his body until he fell to the ground, but Itticuss would not die. He got to his feet with his clothes stained red from head to toe as Itticuss bled out.

Raising his hands to the sky, Itticuss asked, “What have I done? I’ve lived well and I’m a good man and provider. I’ve loved my family ever since the first day I laid my eyes on them. I have devoted myself to the gods as long as I can remember. I ask you again, what have I done?”

Itticuss received no answer from the gods on that day. He fell down in sadness and cried at the thought of the death of his old life and all that Itticuss was losing. Itticuss pushed his face in to the mud of the earth as tears rolled down and blood spilled from his neck. At that moment Itticuss lost part of his soul and what made him a man was gone forever.  Itticuss felt at that the thing that kept him feeling alive and connected had died.



CHAPTER 2

INTO THE DARK



I

“Cruentus has been reborn, Acerbus,” Pluto, the angel said to the dark figure that walked up to a large opening of the underworld, over a cliff with a massive emptiness at its base known as the pit of Tartarus. Blackness sat over the entrance and a harsh red glow was seen from the base as if hot coals burned endlessly at the bottom. Swarms of Ravens flew over head blocking out the grey sky that could never be seen. A wooden bridge sat over the emptiness as the dark one as he has been called stepped onto the creaky boards of the bridge.

Pluto the angel and ruler of the underworld and adviser to the mighty God stood just at the opening of a great archway carved into the side of a mountain. The mighty angel watched as his underling made his way through the door and deep underground. He looked upon the creature walking across the bridge, subservient and humble. 

“Yes, my master,” Death said to him. “It has just taken place.” he feared the Angel and would not look directly into his eyes. He could feel the burning sensation as Pluto stared at him with hate and distrust. Would Pluto ever really trust the fallen angel cast down to him all those years ago, to serve his penance for his crimes against God? He really didn’t think that he would.



“Send your Keepers on to him.” Pluto told him. “The great lord does not want him to disrupt the world the way he disrupted paradise.”

Death got down to one knee and bowed his head, “It has been taken care of Master Pluto. I have already sent Illusum to Roma to keep an eye on Him.”

“Why would you send such a Keeper as Illusum? His deeds and hatred toward Cruentus is well known to you, or is this your way of tormenting him a bit more?” The angel Pluto looked down to him and then added, “It is not you that decides what punishment Cruentus is dealt, that falls into the realm of our Lord and you are far from him. Send two others,” Pluto said to him dismissing him with a wave of him hand. Acerbus walked over the bridge and made his way to a descending staircase. The screams of souls of people trapped at the base of the massive trench echoed off of the high stone walls as the dark one walked down the long stone stairs that descended into the pit of the world.

A group of a thousand men in black stood at the base of the stair awaiting their lord, the keeper of the dark souls. The men, recruited souls of the damned now worked for Acerbus the angel of Death. Dressed in black they await their command from the Dark one as they called him. He stood before them tall and powerful his long black wings cupped over his head like an umbrella, his thick grey beard showing its self from behind the blackness of his long cloak. Death felt an uneasy feeling as he stood before his men. They stood egger and waited for the command to embark onto the world. Death looked out to their faces, young and clean as if they had never wronged anyone in life, however that was not the case. They were men, each with their own histories and past that would always influence their actions in this world and the next. Death knew this and needed to choose two keepers that would focus on their tasks and not let their past get in the way.

Death took several steps closer to the men and as they awaited his words he looked around the red glow of hot coals burning on piles around him. He hated this place but it is a place he would always have to return to, like his anguish, it was his prison.

The group of men dropped to their knees and submitted to the dark angel. They felt respect for him but also fear. He was powerful and could lash out at them at any time, but at the same time he has given them a purpose in the world one they would not have otherwise. They exist for one purpose to serve Death.

“What do you wish, Dark one?” they asked in rhythm.  They looked up at him with the wide eyes of school children ready to learn the day’s lesson.

“Cruentus has been reborn, just like the others I need two of you to go and keep him from causing any more harm to Gods world.” Death looked upon his men for a moment then made his decision and picked the two brothers. “Confessus and Fortis, go to him you are his dark keepers, go now.” Then Death walked over to a stone wall and stood before the Arch of Hades a carved archway in the wall, held up a black crystal of Pluto and opened the gate from this world to the next.

The two men looked up as a tear opened up in the stone wall next to them. It was a doorway from this dimension to the world. Their eyes opened as they looked through and could see a world of green grass and swaying trees and soaring birds. A sun was rising over the hillside of dry yellow and golden straw, throwing it brilliant light over the whole landscape. A blue sky that went so far it seemed to blend into nothing at the end of the world. The men stood up looked at one another and almost forgot why they were going. They stepped into the doorway and it disappeared behind them, leaving only the black rock face of the underworld. 

***

Confessus and Fortis stood astonished as they looked up at the immensely blinding sun overhead. Long blades of flowing grass around them as if the stood in a mighty open ocean unable to move or they might sink to the bottom. Butterflies danced about their heads then landed on one of the dozen of colorful wild flowers that sat in patches at their feet. The tall hill of Italia surrounded them in a feeling of contentment and security. They looked at one another and began to laugh to one another at the beauty and wonder now around them. They never wanted to go back to the blackness of the underworld, but they knew if they did not do their duty they would never be able to come back to this world again. 

Without speaking a word to one another they both began to walk down a large hill and finding a small path of dry dirt and cracked mud they made the slow walk into the city of Roma. The air was surprisingly hot as they walked with the sun on their backs, their black cloaks blowing in the breeze from the north. The men not quit spirits but not quit human either. Once in this realm they take on human form but their abilities are enhanced by their age and immortality, soon it would become apparent to them. 

The trip into Roma was uneventful; no words past their lip and it seemed to be an uninteresting trip. Until, just as they were coming to the outskirts of Roma, they heard a voice.

The voice was familiar and for a moment they had no idea where it was coming from.

“He’s not in the city. Come to the Tiber River and follow it south you’ll find him,” the voice said. They looked around for a short while then realized the voice was speaking telepathically to them.

“It’s Illusum,” Fortis said referring to the other that was already here. “We must have enhanced abilities in this place.” Confessus gave him a nod in agreement and they turned right and followed the sound of flowing water.

“Maybe we can talk back to him, shall we try?” Fortis asked. Confessus gave another node still not comfortable talking. Even after a thousand years he is just as anti-social as ever. Fortis, his brother was always the opposite of him in every way; loved large groups, laughing and getting all kinds of attention from the opposite sex, even their hair as Fortis had a head of blond hair and Confessus’ was brown.

“Illusum,” Fortis said out loud, but heard no response of any kind.

“Maybe you have to think it,” Confessus said. Fortis agreed and began to concentrate as the two walked closer to the water.

Illusum, he thought with all his energy of his mind, which was more than adequate.  The two looked at one another with uncertain faces, their eyes equivocal and their lip contorted into small circles of doubtfulness.

“I’m here,” the voice sounded in their heads. A feeling of gratification and relief washed over them.

“Are you watching Cruentus?” one of them asked.

“Yes, he just tried to kill himself.”

“What really,” Confessus said.

“We will be there shortly.” The two rushed down to the water line of the deep river and found Illusum standing in a darkened flock of trees. With soft foot falls the two made their way closer to the trees and entered without being noticed by Cruentus the immortal Roman soldier who was picking himself off of the mud, blood still running from his neck and blade in his hand. He had just tried to kill himself. The three stood in the shelter and confines of the blackness that the grove of trees provided and watched in silence the newly born immortal.

Confessus and Fortis could not take their eyes off of the man. They had not seen another living human in a thousand years since their mortal existence on this world. They stood unmoving for hours, fascinated and concerned at the same time. The soul of this man was not of this world and they must not fail in their duty even for a moment.

II

Feeling lost and as the sun was now rising and had pushed the darkness of the night away for another day, Itticuss climbed to his feet upset that his steed had left him. Sobbing and bleeding and covered in dry mud and dirt he decided that he needed to leave the city. His legs began to shake and tremble with every step out of the city. He looked around once again as the feeling returned to him that he was being watched, but could see no one around the landscape.

He knew that he needed to hide until he could figure out what was going on. Itticuss felt unsafe as his body continued to weaken and bleed. Itticuss began to make the slow walk up the grassy hills of Roma, each step more painful than the last. He walked for three hours, fell to the dirt twice and on the last contemplated remaining only getting back to his feet when he saw the red eyes of a wild dog getting the scent of his blood. He didn’t want to end up like so many of those others on the battle field, torn apart by a dog.

Soon Itticuss was out of the city and came to a place close to the Tiber River. As he came up over the hill he could see a grove of fruit trees together next to the flowing current of the river. The grass was green and the trees healthy he was satisfied with this spot. Itticuss was very weak and fell to his knees just under one of the trees. His energy was leaving his body. He slumped over onto the grass next to several fallen apples. He opened his eyes as a fresh apple fell off one of the trees and landed close to his head. His eyes opened wide as he grabbed it up in his hand and brought it to his lips. With a crisp crunch his teeth broke the skin of the apple and a sweat juice ran down his chin. It could be the best apple he ever put in his mouth. The sensation woke his weakened mind. He closed his eyes and took several more bites of the delicious fruit.

Then, Itticuss looked around the countryside west and came to a large field across from the grove. Long blades of golden and yellow dried grass swayed from the cool breeze that blew across the river through the field and onto his body. He closed his eyes put out his arms almost to stop the wind and hold it there. A smile feel over his face for a moment and he remembered being a child running in the fields by his village with his friend Longus and it felt as if none of this was happening to him. Suddenly Itticuss pain flooded back to his stomach and he knew he must do something once and for all about this.

Smoke rose into the air, swirled in and out as it floated away. Red hot blooms of smoldering wood sat piled onto one another in the base of Itticuss’ fire pit next to the Tiber River. He pulled his long dagger from his pocket, held the blade up in his hand for a long moment then pushed it into the hot of the fire. As the knife sat in the glowing flames of the fire it turned red hot within moments. Itticuss had his shirt off and laying at his side red soaked in blood. He tore a piece of fabric off and wrapped it around his hand so as he grabbed up the hot knife out of the fire it would not burn. He held the blade in his hand glowing red hot. Itticuss stiffened his jaw, clenched his teeth and pushed the hold piece of bronze into his stomach. In the sizzle of searing torment his wound began to close under the intense burning of flesh. Tears were running down his face as he opened his mouth to scream but no sound came from him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and his mind began to falter as the blackness took him over again. Then he slumped over and landed in the dirt just next to his fire. 

The morning sun was about to rise over the hills of Roma when Itticuss awoke to a soft glow making its way over the horizon. The darkness of the night was slowly being overcome by the whiteness of the day. Large drops of wet dew still hung on the long blades of grass as a hawk searched above for a small field mouse hiding in the meadow.

It had been days since Itticuss had eaten more than just an apple and was starting to weaken. He had no weapons, no money, and no way to be able to buy anything. Itticuss got to his feet and taking a few passes through the meadow and the neighboring trees found several good size boulders that would make a good foundation for a shelter but he knew what he really needed was to go into the city for supplies. He felt uncomfortable about being seen in the day light and since he had no coins to speak of and required food desperately he decided to do something he never thought he would do, steel.

Under a patch of trees Itticuss found a shaded spot and rested until the sun began to set, so just as the yellow glow began to turn the sky into a dark orange and red he began his three hour walk back into the city of Roma.

The city stood tall and the high round columns that held up the large limestone rooftops of the richest divisions of Roma glimmered as the light of the moon shinned down. Streets of dirt and cobblestone overgrown with moss bled throughout the city into every section from rich to pour alike. It was on one of these low income dirt roads that Itticuss found himself on that night. It was dark and dangerous on that night as Itticuss snuck back into the city. Roma usually was very safe but just like every city there were parts you did not go to. That was his destination that night.

The wind was silent and the sky dark as Itticuss walked down a long alley with high stone walls, so high the moons light could not penetrate its blackness. When he left the end of the alley Itticuss could see a street that was barely lit by the moon and as he walked out into the street Itticuss made himself a really good target. He wanted to put his skills to the test and if he were to die in the process so be it, it would be the will of the gods.

After several minutes Itticuss noticed a man walking toward him. The echoes of his foot falls slowed when the man, a bandit who preyed on the people of the city noticed Itticuss. Itticuss placed himself on the wall with his back facing him. Itticuss could feel the killer watching him, and Itticuss could hear as he grew closer. Itticuss glanced over at him, he draw a dagger from his pocket and came closer to Itticuss.

He readied himself as killer ran forward, knife in hand to kill Itticuss. Itticuss spun around fast and blocked his strike with his left arm breaking his elbow with a thrust of his right forearm. Itticuss took the knife from him and punch him in his throat no yet ready to become a killer himself. The killer’s eyes opened wide as his mouth opened for air and found none. He fell to the ground landing in a puddle of water and stale urine. Itticuss tucking the dagger into his belt, and grabbed up his body, carried him into the darkness of the alley. 

His body landed in a mud puddle as Itticuss dropped him on the ground. Itticuss kneeled down in the mud covered, dark alleyway and grabbed a hold of the man stinking of mold and urine. He threw him over onto his stomach and searched the man for his belongings. His side belt was full of bread and a few pieces of gold. Itticuss opened his eyes wide as he saw the bread and thrust it into his wanting mouth. His stomach hurt as he forced the food down in to his belly. Bread flaks and crumbs sat on his lips as he chewed relentlessly. He brought his hands to his mouth and wiped bits of drool from his chin.

As he poked his head out of the darkness and peered down the street he could see several other people strolling up and down under the light of the moon. The street looked more and more dangerous and he decided to head back into the alley. Itticuss made his way down the darkness of the alley and felt the cold feeling of a place untouched by the sun. He felt confided and trapped as the blackness seemed to surround him. He back up as he noticed two men talking at the end of the alleyway; they stood under the sun and talked very close to one another for several moments then moved one.

Itticuss put his back against a short stone stacked wall held up by packed mud. He looked up and could see the night sky peering down at him. “Climb, I can climb,” he thought to himself. He used to love to climb as a child. Longus and Itticuss must have climbed every tree in Italy at one time or another. Itticuss took several steps back and then ran up to the stone wall. He jumped, reached up and grabbed a hold of the top of the wall then tossed his right leg up and within a moment he was up and over the stone wall.

With the stolen pack tied around his side Itticuss made his way out of the poor district of the city and it was only a moment of walking along the cobblestone streets until he was back in the market place of the city once more. Once there Itticuss finally left the capital and made the long trip back to campsite, far from the city and the Seven Hills of Roma.

By the time Itticuss had arrived back at his camp he was very weak; he held his head down and his eyes had trouble staying open. His skull felt heavy and his back would not straighten up. As he came over the final hill and his field and grove of trees came into view a feeling of relief flooded over him. He stumbled his way to the edge of the river, fell to his knees and dunked head into the cold, refreshing water that rushed past him. Suddenly this place was home for him; he felt a feeling of content and decided he should make a home here. He needed to be somewhere and was not yet ready to be any farther away from his family; he hoped still that maybe one day he could return to them.

For the next few days Itticuss gathered food from fruit trees and drank water from the river. He went on in this way for a while but he would need food of more substance soon if he was ever to get his strength back in his body. It took Itticuss a long time until he was strong enough to find food on his own, about three weeks. He had been getting very hungry for meat but his stomach was not yet fully healed. He knew he needed to tread softly or he might ripe his healing flesh.

Itticuss took out the dagger that he had taken off of the killer in Roma and unwrapped the leather from around the handle and slid the blade out. Itticuss got to his feet left the loose blade sitting in the grass and made his way into the grove of trees. He found a good long branch on one of the larger trees. He broke the limb off and carried back to the field.

Itticuss took the branch and put the dagger blade on one side and used the leather to tie the dagger down. After several hard pulls of the leather strap Itticuss was confident the blade would hold and now had a spear for fishing. In the morning he would go into the Tiber and hope that the gods would be generous, or maybe that would be just another way he would be punished for something he had done.

With the sun setting and casting shadows over the landscape of Italia Itticuss lay down on the dry grass and closed his eyes, he began to feel tired, his eyes felt very heavy and his muscles lethargic, his body fell asleep very quickly.

The next morning his eyes opened well before to sun had taken to the sky. He felt very alert as if the gods had reenergized him for his morning with the fish. He climbed to his knees and closed his eyes as he prayed to his gods for his morning meal. Itticuss a man of deep religious beliefs in the gods he has known his enter life. Just because they have chosen this life for him to lead and not another easier path for him is not enough to make him waver. He climbed to his feet, took my homemade spear and went slowly into the river. Itticuss walked deep into the river until he found a good spot where he could sit on a rock that sat high out of the water. Itticuss chose to sit and wait for a fish to grace the spot in front of him. It was no more than a few minutes before Itticuss could see the image of a fish swimming past the rock and he stood up fast and threw the spear. It splashed the wetness of the water and hit the fish in the side, pinning the animal to the spear. The silence of the morning was broken when Itticuss screamed out in victory, in flutter, birds took to the skies. Itticuss pulled the spear out of the water and watched the long fish flopped on the stick.

As Itticuss was making his slow trek back to his home he began to think upon his wife. In those months of solitude Itticuss missed his wife Atia greatly. Itticuss was thinking about how they had first met. He was thirteen and had been training with Longus on one of the fields outside of his village. The two were walking back to our village when they came across a young girl walking with a basket of grapes. She was a girl from Viminal Hill. She walked with grace and elegance as she made her way through the tall grass of the field. Her black hair blew in the breeze off of her soft olive skin showing Itticuss her neck line. Itticuss was frozen as she crossed his path. She held her head down in a shy way as most young girls were taught to do, but then looked up and gave him a smile at the last moment. Itticuss stood there staring at her not knowing what to do until Longus struck him across the back bringing me out of his trance. She was his Atia and the first time Itticuss laid eyes on her he adored her. He missed her greatly in those first few months away from her, even all this time later she has always been his irreplaceable Atia.   

After building a small shelter out of stone, mortar and terracotta tiles Itticuss went into hiding, hiding for a long while but every now and then he would head into the city to hear news of Roma. Some days Itticuss would travel to the far side of Rome to sneak by his village in hopes of seeing his family. Now and then Itticuss would see his boys. They grew so fast. Every night he would pray to the gods to watch over them and his wife Atia and hoped they would be taken care of. He hoped the gods would not miss them the way the gods missed him.

Itticuss still had no idea why he was trapped in this life. All he know is that he had not aged since the day that sword was stuck into his belly. It seemed he could get sick and get hurt, but Itticuss had a feeling something was wrong, maybe the gods have cast him out and refused him his passage to the boatman, an idea he worried about every moment. Would he ever get to the afterlife? He did not know. The man in black, he must find the one in the dark cloak he never took his soul to the afterlife that is when this all started and Itticuss was certain it would all come back to him, if only he could find him.

III

 



         

Itticuss had built his home up and out from the shelter that it once was, it now sat a home surrounded by beautiful gardens of fruit and vegetables. Dozens of new crop fruit trees had been planted to the north of the house and a long close line sat on the west, complete with blankets flopping in the wind as they dried in the hot sun.

Itticuss had even built a fence surrounding the whole land. He was as proud of this place as he was his home village in Roma. He never bought himself a steed or mule he was comfortable walking the three hour trek into the city. He felt as if he was one of the anonymous faces as he was.

One days as Itticuss was beginning one of his treks into the city he began to remember his first few years away from him family. It was a difficult time for him to be away from his loving wife and his boy’s. They needed their father and he was gone from their lives. His heart had been so affected by the absence of his wife in those years. 

For years Itticuss kept a close eye on his family. During this time he missed his children and his wife greatly so Itticuss would steal a moment now and them, by spying on them. This was the extent of his participation in their lives. You must understand that superstition is major part of the culture of that time and the village now believed Itticuss was the undead.

Itticuss had been watching them a lot since Marcus had become very ill with a sickness that infested most of the city even Itticuss himself but the sickness would not kill him the way it killed most. His body would get infected, the sickness would run its course then he would be fine. 

One night when Itticuss was hiding in the darkness of the surrounding bushes, he heard Atia sobbing. Many members of the village were in her home comforting her. Itticuss so wanted to be there for her. He stood next to a large round ruff barked tree clinging on to its with all his might, his fingers digging into the bark. Splinters of wood and bark imbedded themselves into his flesh as blood began to drop onto the grass below. His eyes wide as water from tears began to well then run down his clean shaven face. 

“No, please no, bring him back,” Itticuss heard her scream from inside the home. After a moment two men carried the small body of Marcus, from his home. Itticuss fought the urge to run from the bushes to his boy, but he knew that would do more damage to his wife then was already done.

“No, please, this can’t be,” Itticuss thought. “My poor little boy, why?” he cried.

Itticuss began to shake and sob as the body of his boy was carried from the village for ritual bathing. Itticuss stood numb while Atia screamed and ran after the two men, women from the village pulled her back in to her home. The door shut but Itticuss could hear her muffled screams from inside the house. He sat in the long blades of grass and clung to the base of the tree wishing it was his wife so he could comfort her.

Itticuss refused to make the trip back to his home that night he traveled into the city and stayed at an inn just off the market streets. The inn was off of one of several brothels in the city, but Itticuss wanted nothing to do with such activity at this point. In his mind he was still married to his wife and would never look at someone else as long as she was above ground.

The next morning Itticuss left the inn and began to walk up to Oppius Peak where death ceremony would take place.  Itticuss watched high from the hillside, his son was buried just outside the city. The village prayed for him while his wife was sobbing and becoming so distraught that she had to be carried away. 

That night Itticuss snuck out to the coast where the body of his son lay in the earth. He dug up his child and held him in his arms. Itticuss kneeled over him and as he held him he thought how small my boy is. Itticuss closed his eyes as a tear fell from his face it landed on the cold, dirty cheek of his little boy. Itticuss was hoping at that moment his child would awake and look up at him, but of course he did not.

As Itticuss held him tight he cried over his lifeless form then sobbing Itticuss laid him back into the ground. Itticuss leaned over the edge of the dirt and looked down to his boy one last time and thought that he looked so little as he lay in his grave. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered as the wind picked up and his words were lost into the night.

“I’m sorry my son, I should have been there for you.”

A few days later Itticuss was headed to the city. He was walking up the small dirt path that he knew very well. He was walking around a large patch of grass on the bend when several men walked around the opposite corner and almost knocked him down. They did not even meet his eyes as a line of people passed him. He noticed that they were several members of his village who were caring another body.

Itticuss stepped off the path into the shadows of the tall grove of cypress trees that grew on the north part of the path. He knew that if he was recognized by the people he would most likely be run out of Roma again. The line of people carried a body; Itticuss could see that it was the body of an adult female. He worried at once that it could be that of his wife. But even at that point he was not prepared. 

Itticuss looked around the group of people making their way to the coast and could not see his wife. As the line of people disappeared around a corner Itticuss stepped out of the darkness and began to follow. Itticuss followed them to the very spot where his boy laid and there was an open grave next to it. “It can’t be,” Itticuss said.

“We are here to give the body of Atia Cacuss back to our gods,” said the village elder.

“No,” Itticuss cried out as he ran out of his shelter behind a grove of trees and ran down the mud covered path up to them. “She can’t be dead,” he yelled at the men that carried her. In fright at seeing the undead member of their village, they dropped the body of his wife to the ground. She landed in a mound of dried and cracked mud at their feet. They stared in shock as Itticuss threw himself to her and ripped her burial cloth off her face. “No, my poor sweet Atia, I’m so sorry.” Itticuss sobbed over her body. “What happened to her?” he looked up to them with his eyes swollen red and tears streaming down his face.

“Get back,” they yelled at him sure he was a demon from the underworld come to corrupt her soul. 

The men drew their swords and chased after him. They came at him fast and Itticuss climbed to his feet and didn’t even attempt to explain, he just ran for the hills and into the cover of the trees. Itticuss hid in the darkness of the woods for many hours and watched as many of the villagers and several Roman guards hunted for him. The villagers eventually gave up and returned to the body of his wife and buried her.

Itticuss returned that night to the spot where his wife laid in the ground. He told her he was sorry and begged her forgiveness in failing her. Itticuss received no answer from her or the gods he prayed to on that day.

As Itticuss was climbing to his feet he looked to his right and in the darkness of the trees standing under the light of the moon he saw a figure in black. He stood alone with his hands cupped into one another and stared at Itticuss from behind his black cloak. Then the man made an expeditious retreat in the blackness of the trees. Itticuss was not going to let him go. He thought instantaneously that this was Death his one chance to plead his circumstances before the gods. Itticuss ran into the darkness of the wood to follow the dark angel but he was gone in an instant.