She heard the sound before anything else. It was rhythmic, like a heartbeat, but each pulse ended in a crash. The crash of a wave on the shore. Water, the sea. For a few beats she listened in the dark and then the blackness evaporated from her vision. It was replaced by a burnt sienna hue. The color integrated into a texture and tapestry of small sticks, no, needles. Pine needles. Beneath her feet lay a soft rug, a cushion of pine needles. She scuffed the toe of her boot down into them, raising the scent of the pine and she took a full deep breath. Slowly she lifted her head and saw the blue of the sea below, beating against a white sand beach couched in the arms of a rocky inlet. From within the coolness and shade of the stand of pines she gazed out past the tree trunks at a cloudless azure sky, a tiny breeze kissed her forehead and tossed her black curls back from her face. The scent of the pines filled her with a sense of well being, of belonging, and she curled one arm around the trunk just to feel the solid presence. She laid her head against the bark thinking that she could stand in this place for all eternity.
The hill upon which the pines were rooted loomed over an enticing green valley that rolled up again into a gentle incline and then became another, lower hillside. Cutting through the green, a road wandered along, chalky white with ground marble gravel as a base. It was pressed deeply into two wagon tracks with stray clumps of grass between that were sprinkled randomly along the route. The road went over the hill and was hidden from sight. Aside from the small birds singing tiny concertos in the pine branches there was no sign of life in this Grecian paradise. As she rested, she placed her right hand on her hip (it seemed familiar to do so) and as she did her hand touched her belt. The feel of the leather under her fingers made her reach for something that should hang there but her fingertips found nothing.
As she pondered the sense that something was gone from its place, a rumbling sound came from behind her and the pine needle cushion shook as a chariot drawn by white horses and laden with several smiling people passed near to her stand of pines. They were singing but the language was not one she spoke or understood. Her eyes followed the chariot as it moved down the road toward the far hills, leaving a small cloud of white dust behind the wheels. She stood on tiptoe while holding on to the tree for balance trying to see what she thought looked like wings fastened to the sides above the wheels.
They come along quite often. A male voice at her right startled her and she turned her head quickly pulling aside the small evergreen branch she had been holding.
What?
I said, they come along quite often. Across the road from the pines were two Doric columns and a set of marble stairs. It looked as if the columns guarded an entrance to a temple but there was no building behind them, only the clear sky. On the steps into which the name Ares was carved, sat a young man, dressed in the tunic and armor of Imperial Rome. He had removed his helmet and had laid it upon the step beside him where it caught and reflected the sunlight. He was looking steadily at her with some curiousity and he opened his hands in a gesture that spoke of peace.
Ave, she said, not really knowing why she said that.
Ave, he replied, sitting up a bit straighter at the sound of a familiar word.
Moving from tree to tree she cautiously came a little closer to the road and he held up one hand to stop her.
You cant come here. I tried to cross to your side but it isnt possible. Besides.. Just then another chariot rumbled by, obscuring him until the dust settled. Besides, I WAS going to say, its dangerous. You never know when one will go by.
The road on her right came over a steep hill and so it seemed that the chariots came out of nowhere, suddenly cresting the top and descending speedily. She looked up the hill and then back at him and it came to her that it was important to cross, even though she would have to leave the pines. Once she was certain of her choice she moved swiftly across the rutted road.
She arrived safely and climbed the marble stairs much to the amazement of the young soldier whose appearance, as she saw him closer, was like a figure of Apollo.
How did you do that? he laughed.
I dont know, she took a seat beside him and turned away to look at the beautiful sea that gave her such peace. He followed her gaze and they sat in the late afternoon sun, two strangers feeling perfectly comfortable together. At length she pointed to the small Greek fishing boats in the harbor below, Do you fish? He looked at the Roman galleys wondering why she asked about fishing. Slowly as if shaking the uncertainty from his head he said, No. I..I..dig.
Dig? Dig what? In the dirt?
Yes, in the soil. I am the son of..of..a farmer. Yes! A farmer! Thank you! I had forgotten that.
A farmer. Why would anyone farm?
He looked startled and pulled back a little to look at her. Why, for food, for the joy of it.
Cant you just LOOK for food when you need it?
His tanned face broke into a grin and his blue eyes sparkled. You plant the seeds and then you tend the crop as it grows, waiting for the day when you can gather what you have sown. Its wonderful. We have a small vinyard south of Rome. Harvest time is full of the smell of ripe grapes crushed in the press and great celebrations of the feast. Jupiter himself has no finer wine. He smiled broadly then and she smiled in return, enjoying his happiness if not the concept he cherished. A light breeze brushed them and as he shifted his body on the stairs, his military issue sandals scraped on the loose stone. From this angle he could see her better and he leaned back against the steps. She looked like a carving of Minerva he had once seen.
Nonne alicubi prius convenimus? he murmured.
No, Ive never seen your face before today.
Sentio me iam te novisse.
I feel that I know you too, but I cant quite remember where we met. She broke his gaze and surveyed the sky then looked around at the ground near them. We should make a fire. It will be dark soon.
No, it never gets dark here. Its always the time just before sunset. The golden afternoon.
She frowned. It seemed out of place to frown. How can time stand still?
He shrugged under his officers cloak. It just does.
An elderly man in Athenian dress came down the road from over the hill and as they watched he labored with the aide of a staff to walk. Each step he took seemed to come easier and soon after he passed them he had thrown the stick down and was running along the wagon ruts jumping into the air joyfully every few feet. They laughed together but she stopped when from the place where the old man had entered she heard faint voices.
Did you hear that? she asked the soldier.
Hear what?
Nothing. I. .thought. .
The voices had made her think about herself for the first time. She noticed then that she was not too warm or too cool, not hungry or full, not tired but not fully awake. When she questioned him he nodded and said he felt the same. Nothing hurt, all was well, but somehow there were things that were missing. He too felt that some possession that he always carried should be at his belt but could not remember what. As they talked she heard the call again from over the hill.
Whats back there? she pointed and pulled at his arm, hoping he would suggest they explore.
Nothing. Something. I cant go back . . and I cant go ahead his face told her that he had made the attempt already. Another chariot of travelers passed and she could unquestionably see the wings on the sides this time. Again she heard voices, clearer now and two louder than the rest.
She felt pulled to go up the road to see who was calling but shrank from the next group moving down the hill. A cohort of Roman soldiers had suddenly appeared and marched down toward the valley double time. He called after them, Wait! Wait for me! He gave her a pleading look. I know those men. I was part of that cohort, an officer I think. I belong with them . . He took her shoulders in his hands, looked deeply into her hazel eyes and asked the question they both had skirted. Where are we? Is this. .
I cant stay here, she whispered tearing free. She stood up and ran down the steps and he followed quickly after her.
Dont go. Until you came, no one stopped. No one talked to me. I was alone, he was embarrassed that he had admitted his lonliness and turned his face away. The sound of the marching Romans faded into the distance.
What keeps you here? she grabbed his muscular arm and tried to move him from where he stood. He pulled away and held his head in his hands.
A message. . . My parents. . I cant move on until they know. . I wanted to return.
She spoke urgently but softly into his ear, I will take the message. Give me a token so they will know me. The stronger of the two voices from beyond the hill echoed in her head, nearly blocking out his answer. She felt them so near that now all of her ached to be with them, there were no perfect days without them, no peace. All was as nothing unless they were all together. He pulled a ring from his finger and looked at it lovingly; it bore an image of a vine and grapes and a name, Gaeus across the golden surface.
Hurry! I must go NOW! Her decision made to go she could stand still no longer. He placed the token on the ring finger on her right hand. She squeezed his hands once, pledging loyalty with her eyes and ran toward the road. As she raced up the hill toward the top he called to her , I remembered something else! My name! Tell them Flavius will see them again!!!!!
Flavius, I have it! Flavius! She stopped long enough to turn and hold up a hand as he did to her, and in the noise of a wind that had suddenly come up like the howling of a wolf she crested the hill and dove head first to fall back into the blackness. Alone again, Flavius Gaeus a loyal son of Rome and soldier for Caesar sat down again to wait, running his hand over the word Mars carved in the step. This time he faced his imprisonment with a hopeful heart.
As she fell she heard Zeeeeennaaaaaa and her eyes opened painfully to another sea, a sea of beloved faces that emerged from the evaporating darkness.
The hill upon which the pines were rooted loomed over an enticing green valley that rolled up again into a gentle incline and then became another, lower hillside. Cutting through the green, a road wandered along, chalky white with ground marble gravel as a base. It was pressed deeply into two wagon tracks with stray clumps of grass between that were sprinkled randomly along the route. The road went over the hill and was hidden from sight. Aside from the small birds singing tiny concertos in the pine branches there was no sign of life in this Grecian paradise. As she rested, she placed her right hand on her hip (it seemed familiar to do so) and as she did her hand touched her belt. The feel of the leather under her fingers made her reach for something that should hang there but her fingertips found nothing.
As she pondered the sense that something was gone from its place, a rumbling sound came from behind her and the pine needle cushion shook as a chariot drawn by white horses and laden with several smiling people passed near to her stand of pines. They were singing but the language was not one she spoke or understood. Her eyes followed the chariot as it moved down the road toward the far hills, leaving a small cloud of white dust behind the wheels. She stood on tiptoe while holding on to the tree for balance trying to see what she thought looked like wings fastened to the sides above the wheels.
They come along quite often. A male voice at her right startled her and she turned her head quickly pulling aside the small evergreen branch she had been holding.
What?
I said, they come along quite often. Across the road from the pines were two Doric columns and a set of marble stairs. It looked as if the columns guarded an entrance to a temple but there was no building behind them, only the clear sky. On the steps into which the name Ares was carved, sat a young man, dressed in the tunic and armor of Imperial Rome. He had removed his helmet and had laid it upon the step beside him where it caught and reflected the sunlight. He was looking steadily at her with some curiousity and he opened his hands in a gesture that spoke of peace.
Ave, she said, not really knowing why she said that.
Ave, he replied, sitting up a bit straighter at the sound of a familiar word.
Moving from tree to tree she cautiously came a little closer to the road and he held up one hand to stop her.
You cant come here. I tried to cross to your side but it isnt possible. Besides.. Just then another chariot rumbled by, obscuring him until the dust settled. Besides, I WAS going to say, its dangerous. You never know when one will go by.
The road on her right came over a steep hill and so it seemed that the chariots came out of nowhere, suddenly cresting the top and descending speedily. She looked up the hill and then back at him and it came to her that it was important to cross, even though she would have to leave the pines. Once she was certain of her choice she moved swiftly across the rutted road.
She arrived safely and climbed the marble stairs much to the amazement of the young soldier whose appearance, as she saw him closer, was like a figure of Apollo.
How did you do that? he laughed.
I dont know, she took a seat beside him and turned away to look at the beautiful sea that gave her such peace. He followed her gaze and they sat in the late afternoon sun, two strangers feeling perfectly comfortable together. At length she pointed to the small Greek fishing boats in the harbor below, Do you fish? He looked at the Roman galleys wondering why she asked about fishing. Slowly as if shaking the uncertainty from his head he said, No. I..I..dig.
Dig? Dig what? In the dirt?
Yes, in the soil. I am the son of..of..a farmer. Yes! A farmer! Thank you! I had forgotten that.
A farmer. Why would anyone farm?
He looked startled and pulled back a little to look at her. Why, for food, for the joy of it.
Cant you just LOOK for food when you need it?
His tanned face broke into a grin and his blue eyes sparkled. You plant the seeds and then you tend the crop as it grows, waiting for the day when you can gather what you have sown. Its wonderful. We have a small vinyard south of Rome. Harvest time is full of the smell of ripe grapes crushed in the press and great celebrations of the feast. Jupiter himself has no finer wine. He smiled broadly then and she smiled in return, enjoying his happiness if not the concept he cherished. A light breeze brushed them and as he shifted his body on the stairs, his military issue sandals scraped on the loose stone. From this angle he could see her better and he leaned back against the steps. She looked like a carving of Minerva he had once seen.
Nonne alicubi prius convenimus? he murmured.
No, Ive never seen your face before today.
Sentio me iam te novisse.
I feel that I know you too, but I cant quite remember where we met. She broke his gaze and surveyed the sky then looked around at the ground near them. We should make a fire. It will be dark soon.
No, it never gets dark here. Its always the time just before sunset. The golden afternoon.
She frowned. It seemed out of place to frown. How can time stand still?
He shrugged under his officers cloak. It just does.
An elderly man in Athenian dress came down the road from over the hill and as they watched he labored with the aide of a staff to walk. Each step he took seemed to come easier and soon after he passed them he had thrown the stick down and was running along the wagon ruts jumping into the air joyfully every few feet. They laughed together but she stopped when from the place where the old man had entered she heard faint voices.
Did you hear that? she asked the soldier.
Hear what?
Nothing. I. .thought. .
The voices had made her think about herself for the first time. She noticed then that she was not too warm or too cool, not hungry or full, not tired but not fully awake. When she questioned him he nodded and said he felt the same. Nothing hurt, all was well, but somehow there were things that were missing. He too felt that some possession that he always carried should be at his belt but could not remember what. As they talked she heard the call again from over the hill.
Whats back there? she pointed and pulled at his arm, hoping he would suggest they explore.
Nothing. Something. I cant go back . . and I cant go ahead his face told her that he had made the attempt already. Another chariot of travelers passed and she could unquestionably see the wings on the sides this time. Again she heard voices, clearer now and two louder than the rest.
She felt pulled to go up the road to see who was calling but shrank from the next group moving down the hill. A cohort of Roman soldiers had suddenly appeared and marched down toward the valley double time. He called after them, Wait! Wait for me! He gave her a pleading look. I know those men. I was part of that cohort, an officer I think. I belong with them . . He took her shoulders in his hands, looked deeply into her hazel eyes and asked the question they both had skirted. Where are we? Is this. .
I cant stay here, she whispered tearing free. She stood up and ran down the steps and he followed quickly after her.
Dont go. Until you came, no one stopped. No one talked to me. I was alone, he was embarrassed that he had admitted his lonliness and turned his face away. The sound of the marching Romans faded into the distance.
What keeps you here? she grabbed his muscular arm and tried to move him from where he stood. He pulled away and held his head in his hands.
A message. . . My parents. . I cant move on until they know. . I wanted to return.
She spoke urgently but softly into his ear, I will take the message. Give me a token so they will know me. The stronger of the two voices from beyond the hill echoed in her head, nearly blocking out his answer. She felt them so near that now all of her ached to be with them, there were no perfect days without them, no peace. All was as nothing unless they were all together. He pulled a ring from his finger and looked at it lovingly; it bore an image of a vine and grapes and a name, Gaeus across the golden surface.
Hurry! I must go NOW! Her decision made to go she could stand still no longer. He placed the token on the ring finger on her right hand. She squeezed his hands once, pledging loyalty with her eyes and ran toward the road. As she raced up the hill toward the top he called to her , I remembered something else! My name! Tell them Flavius will see them again!!!!!
Flavius, I have it! Flavius! She stopped long enough to turn and hold up a hand as he did to her, and in the noise of a wind that had suddenly come up like the howling of a wolf she crested the hill and dove head first to fall back into the blackness. Alone again, Flavius Gaeus a loyal son of Rome and soldier for Caesar sat down again to wait, running his hand over the word Mars carved in the step. This time he faced his imprisonment with a hopeful heart.
As she fell she heard Zeeeeennaaaaaa and her eyes opened painfully to another sea, a sea of beloved faces that emerged from the evaporating darkness.
