Valentine
CHRONICLES OF AN ETERNAL BLOODLINE
FOR MY BEAUTIFUL SON
COPYRIGHT © 2024 WARREN KENNETH CLYDE ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
February 18th, 2020
Whoever claimed time heals all wounds, has never loved.
For two millennia, love and loss have intertwined within my immortal heart, each memory a whisper that lingers in the shadows. As I step into the room with my dear Brooklyn, ready to recount my tale, I find myself confronting the pain of the past that refuses to fade.
Having gathered and perused my journals spanning over two thousand years, I decided, after what seems like a century of nagging, to grant my dearest Brooklyn her desire to immortalize my story, indulging her newest fancy to be a scribe—AHEM!—an indie writer.
She truly believes that publishing an online weekly account of how I came to be, might, in fact, lead him to me. And so, for this reason, and because as always, I can never refuse family; I have taken up my favorite leather chair whilst my journals lay bedded within the magnificent thyine bookshelves that make up my study. Ever close should the need arise to aid in my recollection. ‘In case my ancient memory inexplicably ceases to recall,’ as my dear granddaughter would deem necessary to point out on many an occasion.
Brooklyn herself has taken to sit in front of me on that infernal machine, to type as I recite.
Strangely, I am at ease. Maybe it is the ambient light of the stoked fire that perfumes the air with lilac incense, summoning ethereal memories of my beloved to parade in front of me as I sip my favorite vintage. The bottle of which stands to breathe on the table beside me.
For so long I hath buried most of my past from her, for fear she sees me in a different light. Yet, Brooklyn adamantly insists that this is her project and that she wishes to know everything, so she can know herself; regardless of the darkness that may follow.
After countless ages of relentless searching, I believe I have, in all likelihood, succeeded in rehabilitating my lost lineage, as I encountered sweet Yedda, on the night of this past Christmas Eve.
And so, I feel the time has come for Brooklyn to become acquainted with her origins and lineage. Therefore, I shall indulge her.
Brooklyn looked back from her seat. “Are you ready?”
“Dear granddaughter, one question?”
Sighing and nodding, Brooklyn turned back around. “Ok, Papi. Let’s go, spill it, what now?”
“My dear,” I said. “How are we to know that what you write will not be believed?”
“As I told you before,” she smiled. “This is not the old world, Papi. Those superstitions faded long ago when science took hold. No one believes any longer. If science cannot prove it, then it must not be real.”
Turning back to her monitor she raised her hands and laughed, “I mean look, they got witch covens, zombie lairs, and Papi they even have, popping up all over the place…Vampire communities. Now they even want you to suck their blood; they invite it. To them, Vampires and such do not exist; it’s just some hope or desire to live forever, a fantasy, a fictional escape. And Papi, we’re only doing this in the hopes that THEY read it or hear of it.”
“Ok, dear, you may proceed. I keep forgetting that this is to be written to attract them.”
Brooklyn’s head bobbed as she giggled under her breath and added, “And Papi, you know you don’t have to talk, so, like… old school, right?”
“I know, but I have…”
“You’ve seen the world many times over;” she whispered with a snicker, “met millions of people through the various centuries and with varied dialects and... Ha-Ha...” joshed Brooklyn, while staring into the bright monitor and shaking her head.
“You do know I can hear you; dear girl,” I said. She turned and smiled. She knew I could; that is why she made fun of me.
EGYPT
I WAS BORN VALENTINO POMPEIOUS MAGNUS IN ROMA ON SEPTEMBER 22, 7 B.C. AND DIED ON SEPTEMBER 22, 33 A.D. ONLY TO BE REBORN HOURS LATER.
Seven months before my untimely resurrection, I arrived at the Eastern Port of Alexandria, via the Mediterranean Bay of Aboukir, where I was greeted by horse and a contubernium of Roman soldiers; led by Departing General Gaius Potitious Calpurnianus; who had commanded a Legio here ever since Rome became protectorate of Egypt, some 10 years ago.
“Welcome…Welcome –General,” he shouted over the bustling seaside merchants peddling their wares.
“General.” I nodded back as I slipped my journal inside my leather cuirass and mounted the steed handed to me by a foot soldier.
“I trust your journey was not too unpleasant?” He asked turning his mount around to walk beside mine.
“I’d rather my feet on solid ground, but it wasn’t so bad,” I replied as we made our way through the market with an escort of centurions marching in front and to our rear.
Gaius nodded at my side. “Ha,” he said. “I see you still carry that journal of yours?”
Tapping my side, I looked over and replied, “Every General should, Gaius. Writing down the day's events allows one the opportunity to scrutinize and put things into perspective. Not to mention having a written account of who said what and when. Comes in handy when dealing with politicians and their snaked tongues.”
The General laughed and declared, “Hell; I don’t need that.”
He raised his hand and flamboyantly showcased the area. “Thankfully, I am far removed from the Senate out here in this damn shithole.”
“Well, you know…”
I was suddenly interrupted by the command of a centurion, who raised his hand to halt the lines. “HOOOO!” Shouted He.
As our procession stopped, the general motioned his horse to a nearby merchant.
Leaning off his saddle to his right, he handed the suspicious-looking man a coin, then waited. The merchant took the coin, turned, and bent over to take hold of a leather flask sitting below his table. That’s when I noticed something tattooed upon the back of his neck.
Sensing my gaze, he abruptly stood, turning to face us, lifting and holding his tattered linen cloak to turtle his neck.
Having a tattoo is fine, but since my arrival, I have noticed the same tattoo on many citizens, all of whom seem wary that the mark may become exposed, and so constantly they shift their attire to make sure any uncovered skin remains covered.
Having made his purchase, I inquired of the general. “What is with the tattoos? The general turned to see me tap the back of my neck as I added. “I have seen many of the same on a handful of citizens.
“Ah... yes,” he replied, as we moved on, “That, my dear friend, is the mark of the House of Horus.”
“The House of Horus?” I asked keenly.
The general leaned in, his horse shifting closer as he spoke in a hushed tone, his eyes scanning the surroundings vigilantly.
“When the Queen had her brother killed and seized power, she exiled his high priests along with their followers and families, to the Northeastern reaches of this rain-forsaken land. These priests were of the House of Horus., marked by the symbol of the blue eye of Horus, typically found at the nape of their neck, although some have been known to conceal the mark.”
“Found?”
“Found.” Nodded Gaius. “By the Queen’s religious dogs; the Sons of Set. They despise any other religion that would make claim to the rightful deity of Egypt. And so, they are arrested indiscriminately, stripped and brutally examined, some even in daylight, amongst the eyes of the populous. All to identify any HOH members.”
The General leaned in closer and whispered, “There are hushed rumours, that many of these so-called inspections, interrogations, whatever you would call em’; have led to the disappearance of many Horus zealots.”
Surprisingly, I felt the General’s hard, calloused hand squeeze around my forearm as he locked his gaze onto mine. Under his breath, his voice tight with tension, he revealed, “We have found many viciously carved up, scalped of their markings. So brutally were they attacked, they were no longer recognizable.”
He then sat straight back in his saddle, his dark-tanned face had turned strong and serious as he looked over at me, pursed his lips and nodded, as though he needed me to understand that there was something very serious, very deadly happening, and to watch my back.
But I was not weary of a bunch of religious extremists. Shaking my head, I expressed, “I have always found it amusing how religion is taught to be forgiving and of a peaceful nature,” I snorted, “Yet when challenged, they are but like the rest of men, cruel and unforgiving.”
The general was a touchy kind of man, for once again, he reached out his hand to my wrist, stopping me. “Yeah, well these hairless piss ants are the true rulers here. Mind my words. They are dogged priests who have the ear and mind of Cleopatra. Be very wary of them, especially Amenemhat, Set’s chief priest. He’s a bitch. And they say he communes with demons.”
“Ahh, I hold no mind for such things, demons. They are for the asinine who know no better and are easily persuaded by fear, preached by the ramblings of men hidden in dark corners. Indeed, men, not Demons. Men who would play God, if I so believed in Gods...Humph.”
The general laughed as he tapped my shoulder. “Valentino…what blasphemy.” Looking at my grinning face he chuckled, “Be wary, Jupiter himself may strike you down.”
“Jupiter himself would melt in this inferno before doing so,” I replied as I wiped the beads of sweat from my brow.
“Ha!” Hooted the General.
We continued towards Alexandria, along the trenched path of the so-called Silk Road, which was dotted with an endless caravan of moaning, frothing camels and exhausted people jousting with the sun beneath their umbraculums, as they made their way to trade in the marketplace.
While I surveyed the debilitated area and the chaotic never-ending processions' lack of order, I wondered. Why did Rome forsake this place? Rome usually brings with it, its culture and civilization, law and order, as well as Rome's unmatched architecture.
This place had none of that. It looked more like a barren island of shit, piss, and scorching sand. A dustbowl of scantily clad, cold-staring refugees, waiting for the cover of night to pounce and relieve you of your life, your possessions, possibly both.
As we left the shelter of the marketplace and stepped into the blinding sun, the heat immediately enveloped me.
Within moments it soaked through my body, absorbing my tunic to cling to my skin, refusing to let my pores escape that oppressive humidity, to the point where I was sure to depart my horse for the golden scorched ground below, and certain unconsciousness.
How do these people do it, live here like this, day-in-day-out, with such fuckin heat that it sizzles the sands around us and hallucinates the mind to see hazed objects in the distance that may or may not be there.
What boggled my boiling mind even more, was to see some travellers walking and standing still, talking to each other with not even a sandal to guard them against the furnace that was surely branding their feet.
“So, Valentino, what of that beautiful wife of yours? “Asked Gaius. “Does she come to this piss hole?”
“Truth be told, she was quite eager to arrive. Immersing herself in the culture had become her obsession, much to my detriment, I may add. She yearned to witness the very monuments she had poured over in her studies; and longed to confirm the rumours she’d encountered—rumours of those colossal, ivory-hued pyramids standing as sentinels in Giza.”
“Oh, the rumours are true. It’s about a five or six-day ride on those spiteful Camels,” replied Gaius as he shaded his eyes and pointed south. “You can see the cap pointing to the sun.”
Shielding my eyes to look, I was brought to marvel as I whispered onto myself, ‘BY THE GODS!’ Even from this distance, their Majestic presence eclipsed my overheated body to shiver, as it drank the awe-inspiring beauty that stood as three Colossus guardians in an endless sea of shimmering hot sand.
“Well, I guess I know where I will be heading upon her arrival,” I chortled.
“Ha-ha. When does she arrive?”
“Tomorrow, upon the next merchant vessel,” I smiled in anticipation.
“And what of your twin daughters? They must be getting big?”
“Yeah, they are. Turned ten last week. They arrive with their mother.” The thought of my three beautiful girls arriving the morrow, warmed my already overheated heart. And as a father naturally does, we take any opportunity to ramble on about our children.
“Siri, in fact, is the reason for my wife's delay,” I snickered. “Once again, she decided to venture off and explore. Leaving all of us in the dark and in a panic.”
“Haa! By the Gods, she has the adventure of her father in her.”
“I swear, Gaius,” I confirmed. “Iris was sent by way of Minerva, while Siri, if not for her mother's look, I would make bet she was a boy, delivered by way of Artemis.”
A smile came over my face when thoughts of my laughing girls appeared before my eyes. “Each day they grow ever more the semblance of their mother. I dread the day when they become ladies, for even though Siri bears her mother’s fiery hair and Iris, my raven black locks, I would hardly be able to tell them apart.
Our conversation devoured not only the loathsome sun but also the passage of time. As my thoughts were eventually liberated of loving images, I glanced upward to discover a garrison of saluting Roman soldiers, stationed to welcome us as we entered Alexandria.
“They look up to you here…the men,” said the General. “News of your victories in Gaul and Persia has reached these shores. Your celebrity precedes you.”
“You mean my father's celebrity that invites scrutiny and comparison to his victories, which I fear shall shadow me to my grave,” I confessed, my voice carrying a trace of resignation.
“He was a great general, Valentino,” Gaius contributed.
“I guess,” I conceded as my mind drifted slightly to whisper to myself. ‘A great General, yes. A Father…Nay.’
As we exited the phalanx corridor, we were greeted by even more Roman soldiers, their ranks flanking the path bordered by mudbrick homes
“Whoa!” They shouted in unison, tilting their spears forward, directing me to my new home that rested in the shadow of a majestic, beautifully painted palace.
The very sight compelled me to reign in my steed, captivated by the splendour that held the entire city in its enchantment.
As I came to a stop, the General indulged my obvious captivation by remaining behind as my child-like eyes studied a multitude of monumental Deities made of shimmering gold, standing guard around its perimeter.Among them stood two soaring figures familiar to me through stories and sketches shared by my wife.
Towering before the palace doors was the formidable form of the Jackal God Seth, a vigilant sentinel armed with gleaming golden spears.
The faultlessly sculpted black onyx statues of Seth were adorned in a king's ramson of regal attire. From their golden shendyt to the thick gold bands gracing their gleaming ebony arms, they exuded opulence.
But what truly captivated the senses was the sight atop the roof.
Standing elegant and proud atop the cap of the Colossal pyramid-shaped windowed roof, stood a statue of such beauty, that it defied belief, for never have I seen such magnificence, even to this day.
It captivated all who looked upon its radiance, even the relentless sun appeared to bow in reverence. There, in the heavens, it hung, its radiant touch casting a gentle caress upon the edifice as it watched over the city and the vast expanse beyond.
“By the Gods,” unwittingly escaped my atheist lips as my eyes followed every contour of the stunning white and gold statue of the Goddess Isis.
Her wings, a harmonious blend of black and gold, unfurled with a span nearly matching the expansive roof itself.
Her head, crowned with an air of regal supremacy, inclined slightly downward, bestowing a commanding gaze over her subjects far below, through sparkling eyes of diamond.
This was undoubtedly the Queen's palace, for it sat atop a broad hill that spanned over two-plus acres, elevated high above the common citizens.
The architecture and artistic marvels on display were most impressive, rendering my prior inclinations of this place being uncultured and uncivilized entirely baseless.
Witnessing such splendour, it became evident, that Alexandria itself harboured all the magnificence denied to the rest of the vast sand-filled expanse.
It was then, as my gaze remained ensnared by the Goddess Isis, that shadows danced across my line of sight, compelling my eyes to a balcony situated well below.
There, amid the golden gleam of jewellery, I discerned the silhouettes of three men, concealed in the play of shadows, no doubt taking my calibre. I indulged their curiosity by not removing my eyes until they turned away just as I was called. “Here we are, General. Welcome,” announced Gaius, who dismounted in front of a large two-storey mudbrick home.
Directing my steed, I was greeted by a company of bowing servants, seven in total. “My Lord,” bowed a small bald, tanned man, dressed in a white loincloth.
“Ah, yes, this is, Anu. He’s in charge of the servants and keeps the place as spectacular as it is,” said Gaius, tapping Anu on the shoulder.
I nodded as Anu, still slightly bowing, shuffled back to the side of the entrance, where the thick wooden doors stood open.
Extending his arm for me to follow, Anu guided us towards the rear of the sprawling home. The rest of the servants, thankfully serving as fan bearers, followed closely.
I must say the woman servants were a sight. They wore, quite well -I must say, single strapped dresses of white linen that suckled their moist tanned bodies, held tight at the waist by golden sashes.
What held my attention, however, wasn’t their seeming indifference to their sheathed dark nipples poking through; it was their beautifully decorated faces and seductive eyes.
Decorated with grepond and kohl, their eyes had a captivating allure that would surely hold hostage any man or woman upon a simple glance.
We stepped into the open courtyard, where the tantalizing aroma of roasted antelope and the rich scent of wine greeted us.
The feast was spread out over a massive marble table, beckoning my salivating mouth to partake.
“Centurion,” I called out, prompting him to leave the cool shade and approach where I sat.
“General,” He saluted.
“Prepare a contubernium and summon some servants along with three lectica… to greet my wife, Alexandria. She’s due to arrive early morning.”
“General!” He nodded as he stamped his metal breast before taking leave.
“Might as well pamper the girls,” I snickered.
After removing our sun-baked plate armour, we sat in our tunics to eat, drink and talk until dusk began to creep in.
The General, having had his fill, leaned back tapped his stomach and let out a hearty burp. “Well, I shall leave you to it. Good luck, General. I should see my men at the garrison before departing.”
We stood, shook arms as I acknowledged, “Very well. Thank you, General. I wish you a safe journey.” Grinning, I added, “Now don’t go getting all fat in Rome.”
“Fuck that. That is exactly what I mean to do. Food and fucking.” We laughed, then the General left and I took the time to settle in and familiarize myself with our new home.
As the servants were released for the night, I began my inspection of our new home, aided by a few glasses of wine.
My torpid search led me to my room, a sanctuary in the heart of this ancient. Its large, beckoning stood upon a cool marble floor, surrounded by flowing curtains that gently swayed in the night breeze as the rhythmic sound of crickets serenaded me as I lay to rest, the moonlit courtyard just beyond my reach, providing a soothing backdrop to my slumber.
The suffocating heat roused me the next morning, leaving my mouth parched and head pounding, which blurred my eyes and encased me in sweat-drenched skin and clothing. The servants had already quietly arrived, thankfully guiding me to the refuge of a cooling bath.
After being perfumed and oiled in the scents of lotus and papyrus, I was graciously dressed and positioned outside my guarded, ready to acknowledge the curious passersby as I awaited my beloved.
As the dreaded heat of midday approached, a sudden buzz of excitement rippled through the citizens who began to flock south in droves.
I rushed to the second floor to peer down the street, my heart pounding with hope that my instincts were right. How could I have doubted my yearning heart, for there they were, the returning soldiers.
Two of the three litters cradled my daughters, reclining on their sides behind sheer curtains, playfully waving to the mesmerized crowd that had gathered.
And then, a vision: my wife. What a sight she made. A bemused chuckle escaped me—I should have expected nothing less.
While my daughters comfortably reclined in litters, she boldly rode astride a horse, like a man, defying convention. It was a spectacle, a cultural shock that left even the seasoned soldiers lining the streets murmuring and standing rooted in astonishment.
And if that wasn’t enough to ignite the chatter of the city's residents, her beauty would undoubtedly do the trick.
Call me biased, but I believe it wasn’t just her striking appearance that held their attention. It was her angelic countenance, accentuated by sun-kissed, unusually light green eyes framed by fiery red curls cascading down her back, strands of which danced in rhythm with her horse's gait, occasionally brushing against her freckled cheeks.
It was a scene so well-choreographed that it left an indelible mark on my memory, and I dare say, on the lustful hearts of the enamoured men of this city.
Their obvious admiration for her exquisite beauty could only be outdone by mine, as I stood in wonder at how such a woman could love me.
As she trotted gracefully down the street behind our daughters, smiling at her admirers, she caught my star-crossed eyes as I gazed down from the balcony, inviting an even greater beaming smile as she stared up and came galloping in, her light emerald eyes never leaving mine.
Rushing down the stairs to greet my family, I fell to my knees as my lovely daughters leapt out from their litters and ran over to feverishly hug and kiss me.
Overcome with emotion, I tenderly stroked their long, perfumed hair as we joyously hugged. “I missed you, my girls!” I heartfeltly confessed amidst a torrent of ceaseless kisses.
“Ewwww, Dad,” they cried in unison as they tried to pull away. But I would not be denied a father's overdue adoration. They warmly whispered back as they hugged me ever tight. “We missed you too, Daddy.” Then, forgetting me, they ran into the house.
Closing and opening my eyes as I took in a breath of contentment, I stood and smiled, and watched as my wife dismounted, ignoring all around to focus on me, upon her infantilized, enraptured husband.
With her eyes widened and her smile beaming, she reminded me. “It’s only been a few days, Val.” She blushed as I looked around at my men, abashed.
“I mean… General Valentino,” she saluted in a low tone, followed by my favourite sound of hers, a snort.
Fuck the men.
I ensnared her within my embrace, my arms coiled tightly around her firm curves as I tenderly descended kisses upon her moist neck. Beneath the curtain of her long auburn locks, still imbued with a faint hint of perfume, beads of sweat glistened like salted dew, moistening my lips as they traced their path.
“Mmm, I missed you, my love,” I breathed in her ear as I remained lost in her embrace.
She replied most graciously with a warm exhaled nibble on my ear and an equally intense longing as she pressed firmly her breasts into mine.
Shrewd Minx knew if not for the cluster of people around I would surely have taken her right there and then.
Aroused as I was, I stepped back and took her arm into mine. Leaning against me we followed our daughters into our new home, where we were greeted by a bowing Anu and a retinue of attentive servants.
“This is Anu, my love.”
Alexandria confidently stepped forward, extending her hand towards Anu. “Pleasure to meet you, Anu.” She greeted him warmly.
His response, however, seemed somewhat taken aback, perhaps even slightly insulting, for he stared at her hand, his eyes darting up at her as he did, and it took him a moment to answer after he cleared his throat.
I was told men of this region considered women inferior, and thus it showed. With a forced smile, he stammered, “My-my- Lady…The pleasure is mine.”
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“Girls…Girls…” I called out. There was no doubt in my mind that they were engaged in some mischief, probably jumping on the beds somewhere or engaged in a spirited game of hide and seek.
Moments later they came bouncing down the stairs. With scrunched-up little faces, they sombrely walked over and tugged on me. “We are ladies, Daddy,” corrected a huffing Siri, trying to whisper but was too out of breath to do so, which garnered huge smiles.
My wife stepped forward. “This is Anu…” She introduced him to the girls. “You will be respectful and do as he says.”
“Yes, Mother,” they acknowledged with tight lips, shifting their nervous eyes to Anu, whose playful expression prompted them to break into grins.
Clasping her hands together, Alexandria walked to the women servants who were staring at the marble floor. She turned to look at me with a mischievous smile and widened eyes.
“I see you were not totally alone, my LOVE.” She turned back to the woman in front of her, whereupon she gently lifted her chin to inspect her face. “So beautiful…”
“You know there is only you… my wife,” I noted with a grin.
“I know my love,” she concurred in jest. “Yet...” she faltered and softly brushed the servant's straight black hair as she continued to inspect the poor girl's nervous face. “Uh…so beautiful,” she conceded once again.
The servant's mouth slightly opened as though she wanted to say something. “Yes...dear girl,” asked Alexandria. The servant’s eyes looked over at Anu, who shook his head, just as Alexandria looked behind. “What -what is it?”
She then looked back at the servant. “I like women who are not afraid to speak their mind. So, Please…”
The woman’s eyes bounced back and forth from Anu to Alexandria. Then, she smiled and gazed into Alexandria’s eyes, her voice trembling as she nervously began, “M-M-Mistress. You! Are most beautiful…I ah...” she paused and glanced down.
Alexandria returned the smile and took the girl's wrist. “It's ok, girl, we speak freely in this house…Go on,” asserted my vixen, who obviously loved the compliment.
“We are not allowed our true hair,” she said with her head slightly bowed as her eyes nervously darted towards Anu. “We all have the same short wigs, no one is as different as you are… it is beautiful. I have never seen such hair, the colour of Aten… um...I apologize Mistress. The-the colour of the…”
“Aten…the sun,” beamed Alexandria.
“The sun, Yes,” confirmed the servant, who had a stunned look about her.
Alexandria walked back to my side, turned around, and looked at the startled girl and Anu, whose brow remained raised.
“I have taken to learning your language, culture, and religion,” she confessed with a chuckle, “but, I’m still learning.”
Taking my hand, she then addressed those before us. “We won’t require your assistance any longer, ladies, you are free to leave. My daughters and I can run our home.”
Our twins folded their arms and sighed as they often did. “Aww...Mother...” One stern look from Alexandria sufficed to quiet them.
The servant girl attempted to speak but was promptly hushed by Anu, who emitted a soft, “Tsst…”
I whispered to Alexandria, beckoning her to step back with me. There, I explained, “Alex, they are not slaves.” She looked at me curiously, then glanced at the servants and back to me, awaiting an explanation.
“I know what you’re thinking. They do have war slaves in Egypt, as you have read, but these are just servants. They receive wages for their service. To take that away fro…” She stopped me with a finger over my lips.
Understanding my point, she returned to face the saddened servants. With her hands clasped, Alex stated, “I apologize for the confusion. We will, indeed, be needing your valuable services.”
The faces of all the servants lit up, but their joy was short-lived as she raised her hand. “But...” she emphasized, “On one condition,” she declared.
Anu tilted his head. “My lady?”
“You will wear your true hair,” beamed Alexandria as she looked about the room of dazed faces, then added, “Once you are comfortable with yourselves, that is. You will no longer need to wear those damn wigs.”
Anu’s mouth widened into a great smile, and so did the women, their eyes sparkling with excitement.
To no one's surprise, they immediately threw off their wigs, revealing their almost bald heads, wide-eyed and giggling as they did. Alexandria and the children bobbed up and down, clapping and laughing along with them.
I stood in reverence once again, taking my love's hand. She smiled at me with that compassionate and o’ so cute creased-eyed twinkle, that subdued my heart long ago.
With everyone now acquainted and in good humour, we separated, and I took my family around our new home as Anu brought in their belongings.
Alex and the children marvelled at the many immaculate, polished, and colourfully painted Egyptian-motif columns that supported the second floor.
Slowly, we made our way to the master bedroom. It was adorned with large, masterfully decorated vases, plush sitting benches and footstools, and, of course, the main attraction: our enormous, canopied bed.
The bed had intricately designed animal feet resting atop a two-stepped marble platform that led to the open courtyard, outlined by more beautiful columns, bordering the white stone walls protecting my family.
Most spectacular to the children was the ingenious lion-shaped fountain, whose roaring mouth drizzled water that the girls sipped and used to playfully spray unsuspecting passersby.
“Oh, dear, this is perfect,” exclaimed Alex. “I will make us a nice fresh vegetable garden out here…Right girls?” The twins conveniently ignored her as they chased each other around the yard, dousing each other with water from their mouths.
I stood back, watching with child-like eyes at the joy my family exuded, relieved that they were not disheartened about leaving the only home they had known in Rome.
We spent the day going through the house and unpacking. The servants diligently cleaned and prepared our supper, which we enjoyed outside beneath the ever-increasing light of the silvery moon.
It was a day to be cherished, where we were all together in one place, at one time, and all of us were a happy, laughing family.
After dinner, the girls were sent off to their beds upstairs. The servants left, leaving my wife and me alone on a plush blanket in the courtyard.
Here, we confirmed our kindred soul’s passion and entwined to make true, unbounded love beneath a ceiling filled with diamond stars, whilst a symphony of crickets serenaded.
A most beautiful intoxicating night, that I shall cherish with each thought of my love.
The next morning, my stressed-relieved body was awoken by the delightful giggles and gentle poking and prodding of our daughters, who thought it would be funny to paint their father's face with their mothers’ cosmetics.
It would seem so did she, for she sat up with a beaming smile, playfully squishing my rouged cheeks for a morning kiss.
And as the pre-dawn muezzin sang out his beautiful rendition of the Fajr prayer, we paid our respects with silence. Even our daughters were left speechless, their mouths agape as they gazed up past the opened courtyard.
“Listen,” I said as I playfully scooped up Siri from her feet, cuddling and tickling the crying, kicking giggles out of her. “How about we have breakfast, and then, as a family, take a tour around the city to get familiar with our new home?”
Great cheers erupted as Siri escaped my tickling clutches to join her sister in hollering and jumping up and down on the dew-covered grass of the courtyard.
With that, we bathed and got dressed, had our fruity breakfast, and made our way towards the centre of the city.
We must have been a site. There I stood, taller than most citizens, with short black hair and blue eyes, my skin resembling a tomato burned red by the sun.
Dressed in my Roman-crafted silver cuirass and leather pteruges over my tunic, with my red paludamentum gracefully draped over my shoulders. And of course, I had my polished gladius at my side.
Being in a new city, not to mention a city governed by Rome; Egypt would say protectorate; Rome would demand rule. I was to take no chance with the lives of my family. As I have always said, I rather have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.
Now, if my grandiose stature wasn’t enough to garner stares, my wife, who held my hand and was almost as tall, was dressed in a long white gown and sandals. We were as a Luna eclipse among the tanned bodies.
She was untanned with piercing light green eyes and long curly orange hair that reached her sacrum. Attached to her left hand were our daughters, equally as milky and a mirror image of their mother.
***
I paused from my diction, allowing a nostalgic smile to play across my lips as lively images danced silently across my mind.
“Oh, dear Brooklyn,” I subtly shook my head. “If only we had selfies back then.”
“Yeah,” she chuckled. “It must have been a sight. Imagine if you were as you are now—long black hair, sharpened nails, bloodless complexion, yet you still somehow have those awesome blue eyes.”
I agreed with a nod, considering that I am undoubtedly not the same man I was many millennia ago.
I would be demonized and hunted without a doubt.
“No, Papi,” she replied with a warm smile. “You are beautiful and have always been so, to me. The look does not diminish the man you were, and still are.”
I chuckled softly. “Reading my mind again, granddaughter…ta-ta-ta. We agreed, no reading of my mind.”
“I know, I know… sorry,” she confessed. “I just saw how you were lost in the moment. You looked so sad.”
“Just memories of a time I long for again. Just memories,” I conceded. “Ok. Let us continue.”
***
I must say, even though we were Romans in their country, the hospitality and just good nature of the citizens was something to be admired.
I would not so easily embrace my conqueror as so. But they came up to us, shook our hands with great smiles and enthusiasm, and made us feel at ease among the populous.
As we strolled beneath the endless canopy of palm trees, their fronds casting dappled shadows over the bustling clamorous marketplace, Alexandria’s keen eye sought out seeds for her future garden.
She also selected clothing for herself and the girls. The girls, whose energy can outlast even the most tenacious Roman soldier, paid little heed to the deliberate pace of our shopping expedition. Instead, they revelled in the simple joys of the market.
The warmth of the sun-kissed air released the enticing aroma of exotic spices, saturating the area and shrouding all in its lingering bouquet, bringing mouths to water and noses to tingle, captivating my wife’s attention.
The market buzzed with the sound of merchants' haggling, and the echoes of laughter filled the savoury air. The lively atmosphere was complemented by the rhythmic splashes of water emanating from the grand fountain, where stood a breathtaking and regal statue of the Goddess of Moisture and Rain, Tefnut.
From her Golden lioness head, water gracefully spouted a cascading waterfall into the large triangular fountain far below. Her delicate, yet clawed human hands, resting palm up at her side, contributed the splendour by delivering life-giving waters, adding a touch of majesty to the scene.
Here, citizens congregated to smoke, dine, converse, and relish in the warm embrace of the Egyptian sun, softly showered by the rainbow mist from the fountain they surrounded.
I was surprised to find that our dear, rambunctious Siri, had not embarked on one of her impromptu adventures, as she often did when unsupervised and left to her own devices.
Possessing an adventurous spirit and a remarkable fearlessness, traits no doubt inherited from my rash nature and her spirited mother, along with her fiery locks.
In contrast, Iris inherited my black hair; yet she was undoubtedly her mother's daughter—intelligent, compassionate towards all creatures, polite, and a culture enthusiast like our beloved Alexandria.
Having completed our purchases, Alexandria’s insatiable curiosity drew her closer to the majestic palace and its towering, elaborately engraved obelisks.
I observed her, much like a lost puppy dog, her light green eyes sparked with wonder as she absorbed the vibrant, painted hues that seemed to whisper tales of ancient Egypt’s grandeur.
After some time engrossed in the captivating Egyptian prose, we glanced around to inform our girls that we were ready to leave.
That’s when an all-to-familiar scenario unfolded—Siri had disappeared once again.
I should have known something was awry by the one tell-tale sign— the mischievous, scrunched and devilishly puffed cheeks on her sister's face, growing rosier as she attempted to contain her giggles upon examining our faces.
We rolled our eyes, sighed and exchanged knowing glances as we shook our heads in disbelief. It appeared Iris took a certain delight in her sister's knack for getting into trouble.
She couldn’t be far; for she was just here, and how hard could it be to find an out-of-place, pale, orange-haired little girl, amongst a crowd of tanned, black-haired citizens?
In-fact, it was indeed challenging. She had become exceptionally skilled at her chosen profession, which she had practised to perfection.
It wasn’t until late afternoon before we found her sitting on a bench beside an elderly lady, feeding pigeons, of course.
“Siri!” I called out, prompting Alexandria to grasp my arm, trying to calm me.
“Oh, Daddyyyy…. Daddyyy,” she exclaimed, running over. “I met this wonderful lady. Oh, my, she gave me an iced treat, and she’s so nice. And she... and then, and…” She excitedly prattled on, as she so often does.
Not wanting to create a scene or look like bad parents, we chose to ignore her infraction and approached the woman.
“Thank you, Miss, for tending to our daughter. She can be a handful,” Alexandria admitted.
“Oh no, she was an angel, politely keeping an old croon company,” replied the toothless woman tossing bits of bread to the litter of pigeons cooing before the bench.
“You sure you're talking about Siri?” I laughed as I reached forward to shake her hand.
Her shaky hand stretched out, and that’s when I noticed, tattooed on her forearm—the wrinkled eye of Horus. I drew back my hand as she hastily pulled down her sleeve, her eyes filled with fear, as though I intended to harm her.
I had no prejudice against her religion; I was just not expecting to see an old lady with such a tattoo.
“It’s okay, Miss. I mean you no harm…” I attempted to reassure her, but she wanted nothing of my words. She laboured off as fast as she could, leaving myself and my family perplexed. Perhaps she was senile.
“Daddy is she what you call nuts?” gibed Iris.
Alexandria slapped my wrist, her lips curled into a slight grin. “Val!”
I shrugged my shoulders with a hidden giggle, and we thought nothing more of it as we headed home.
As the cooling night descended once more and the girls slumbered off to sleep upstairs, I sat at my desk poring over manifests and soldier patrols.
Alexandria came up behind me, her warm arms enveloping me in a tender embrace. As the romantic flowery scent, of her long, curly gingered hair caressed my cheeks, she placed a gentle kiss on my head and asked, “Can I ask, dear husband? We’ve been here for a couple of days now and the Queen has yet to call for the new commander. Why do you think that is?”
Entranced by her perfumed form and the warmth of her arms, I leaned back in my chair to savour her presence entirely. “She could be busy. We are foreigners, maybe invaders in her eyes. Who knows?”
“But Rome rules this land, does it not?”
“It does.”
“And you are Rome, are you not?”
I smiled and shook my head “Huh.” I chuckled. “Ah, dear, you would make a great senator.”
“I will send word and arrange a meeting with the Queen,” I proposed.
“Good thinking, my Love,” she said, with a giggle. “Be wary though,” she cautioned. “I heard she was very beautiful and a skilled seductress.”
“For Caesar maybe, but she holds no bait over me, dear. Only you have that honour.” I smiled, as I softly kissed her pulsing supple neck, shrouded by a curtain of scented curly locks.
“Honour, Oh, dear me. I am such a blessed woman to hold such a privilege.”She giggled before kissing my cheek and tightening her loving hold as she said, “Well, she did, knowingly, seduce a married Caesar. And I heard a rumour she is to have his child.”
“Rumours, dear, nothing more,” I said as I slowly stood and turned to take my wife in my arms. Kissing her moist lips, I added, “Caesar may have become long in the tooth and shorter on wisdom and sight. Not I.”
“Mmmm…we shall see,” she groaned as she ran her tongue over my lips. “Do not be long on your patrol, lover. I will keep our bed warm, and my body wet awaiting your return,” she said, teasingly tapping my bottom before walking away, glancing seductively back as she did.
I stood suspended and erect as I watched her luringly off towards our room. My red-headed temptress knew all too well that the amber light of the candles dancing upon the walls accentuated her tightly curved body tucked beneath her sheer nightgown.
From the slight gap between her tender thighs, to the moment she paused and turned her torso, flaunting the silhouette of her firm breasts. Her seductive gaze fell to her hardened nipples, visibly piercing through the sheer fabric. Covering her wet, devilishly smiling lips with her fingers, she glanced up teasingly, her eyes seeming to say, ‘Oh, my, what are those doing out?’ She batted her lashes and provocatively walked away, each step a tantalizing promise.
“Hooo....Not fair, woman,” I whispered with a chuckle then took hold of my hardness to fix myself. “You know I’m going on patrol.”
She moaned and appealed with a lascivious sip of air. “Ahhhh...ummmm…mmmmm…. Huhhhh-urry back then……” With that, the minx faded behind the wall and into our room.
Eager for this night to pass quickly, and once I was able to sit correctly, I promptly addressed a letter to the Queen, requesting an audience two days hence. Rolling the papyrus and sealing the letter with my insignia ring, I placed it in the box by the door for Anu.
Then, donning my glistening lorica segmentata, wrapping my black cloak around me, and fastening my always pristine gladius, I hurried out to commence my patrol, silently beseeching Venus the Goddess of Love and fortune, for an uneventful night without delays.
Alas, I should have known that the Gods seldom heed our pleas, regardless of devotion, especially for one like me who harbours no faith in such matters, yet still, I would beseech Hades himself if it meant returning to my wife as promptly as possible.
Knowing all too well, that the true pulse of a city throbs when the crowds of peering eyes and curious ears have gone to slumber, and the hidden underbelly of the city stirs, I ventured out on my introductory rounds.
The nocturnal streets were a labyrinth of urine-saturated cobblestones, littered with debris that rustled with the scurrying rodents that made their way through the maze designed by mudbrick homes.
Guided solely by moonlight, I detected a riotous echo of what sounded like a gathering of angry men in the eastern quarter. Cursing under my breath, I hurried in their direction.
As I approached, I could see the flicker of light down the street, casting long animated shadows of hollering men.
Moments later, and after a slight run, I came to a crossroads and noticed a band of men throwing stones at and hitting a cloaked figure.
The figure was on one knee, hand raised in a futile attempt to shield himself from the angry crowd, his side pressed against a tall, unescapable brick wall.
I yelled, “Hold!” But to no avail. The men glared intensely as I pushed my way through them, positioning myself in front of the defenceless figure.
“Get out of the way!” Someone hollered in a thick Arabic accent.
I stood my ground and commanded, “Go home. There will be no stoning this night.”
“He is a demon,” shrieked a man in the crowd, his words echoed and reinforced by others.
“A demon…and a traitor.”
With one hand white-knuckling the heel of my sheathed gladius, I raised the other as I slowly backed towards the panting man. “I don’t care. He is not to be harmed by a drunken mob.”
“Go home, Roman!” Someone shouted as I dodged a rock hurled my way.
They advanced, shouting and screaming in their native tongue whilst stabbing the sky with their rocked-filled hands.
In an instant, roaring shadows emerged, some carrying lanterns that cast eerie, elongated figures along the walls, extending past the crowd before me. With such overwhelming odds closing in, panic set in as I desperately searched for an escape route.
The main road that I entered from was now barricaded by their bellowing comrades, and the two adjacent paths were swiftly filling with more angry men. My sole path to safety hugged the wall to my left.
As I scanned the torch-lit, shadowed faces, their eyes bulging with intensity, my senses honed to a razor's edge. I could smell the alcohol-infused spit that sprayed from their uproar, mingling with the pungent odour of overheated sweat staining their tattered tunics.
It was evident in their unwavering gaze— they had no intention of leaving. I recognized this feeling, a sensation that had become all too familiar, one that precedes battle.
My skin prickled as if covered in spikes, and my heart thundered in my ears and throat. Extreme heat coursed through my veins, turning my skin into a raging inferno.
I reacted as I always did when confronted with the inevitability of battle. I conjured the image of my family, their outstretched arms pleading for their father, their husband. The thought further stoked my fury, for I could not bear the idea of never seeing my wife, my daughters, or my loves again.
These men aimed to deny me my heart, to deprive my girls of their father's protection, and guidance, to deny me even a simple hug. How dare they?
It was at this moment, as it had been countless times before, that switch flipped within me. I ceased to be just a man. I transformed into a savage beast, consumed by an insatiable thirst to wrest life from them; nay, to fuckin rip them apart with my teeth, to gnaw at their fucking despicable souls.
Every fibre of my being was on high alert as I focussed on the group barricading my exit. I could smell every scent, hear even the faintest whisper and detect even the slightest movement across the threshold into my domain.
As I calculated their numbers and assessed the potential weapons they might possess, from stones, to most likely, knives, I stole a quick glance back at the hunched-over man I was defending.
With resolute determination aided by my desire to see my loves once more, I drew my sword. I refused to yield to the intimidation of a mob, determined not to let this man succumb to their unbridled rage.
I stood unwavering, ready, and utterly savage.
And just as I was about to call them into battle, I heard, coming down the central street, the familiar and precise clang of marching soldiers, their disciplined formation casting bobbing shadows on the mudbrick walls behind the crowd, all converging toward my position.
“Soldiers!” Someone in the crowd cried out. The central mob turned to look, their startled gaze becoming as vast as the full moon above.
Some fled, dropping their stones in the process, while the remainder merged with the obviously highly inebriated horde on the left and right of my position, leaving the central main to my approaching army.
“General!” shouted the first soldier, his hard, torch-lit face emerging from the shadows.
“Centurion. Secure the area!” I commanded as I licked the dried salt of anticipation from my parched lips. Euphorically I watched as the formation of soldiers, their clanging silver-plated armour shimmering in the orange of torchlight, moved as one.
Their synchronized grunts accompanied the drawing of their gleaming swords and the raising of their rectangular shields. As they advanced, their sandals whispered against the sand-covered cobblestone streets, creating an eerie, sandpaper-like sound as they assumed defensive positions to the left and right of me.
In the background, the mob's drunken shouts and the clatter of stones hitting the ground filled the air. My legionnaires raised their rectangular Scutum’s, creating a wall three men wide, wider than the streets before them.
Under the Centurion’s command, they pushed forward with a single grunt until I could no longer see the stone-raised arms of the spitting mob, only hear their vulgar barks, that soon diminished to the pitter-patter of retreating sandals.
With the situation well in hand, I sheathed my sword and turned to assist the man I defended. As I helped him to his feet, a curious revelation dawned upon me as I noticed the ground around the man was littered with bloody stones, but—he was miraculously unharmed.
There wasn’t a single scratch on his weathered face, not even a hint of bruise. Perplexed, I probed his tattered clothes and examined his form head to toe, while he stood there with a sly grin.
I expected to find injuries that should have been there, but there was nothing— not a trace of blood, not even a bead of sweat. All I sensed was the lingering scent of iron and the dusty aftermath of the commotion.
But my inquisitive gaze soon stumbled upon an old wound— a twisted ligature mark encircling his neck— which he hurriedly concealed beneath a scarf.
And as I looked up to question him, our eyes met, and I was strangely captivated, locked in a foggy gaze, fervidly unable to look away from the amber light of the torch flickering in his ebony eyes. In that moment, I heard nothing save for alluding whispers, and I forgot my train of thought.
“How can this be?” I asked the man. “You have not a mark from the stones I surely saw hit you.”
With a hoarse voice, the middle-aged man replied as he stood straight, looking past my eyes. “I do not know. I was on my knees, not looking. But they had cause, for I am a traitor. I did betray my master. I deserve their punishment.”
Stepping back, perplexed that he would want this, I rasped, “No one deserves to be stoned. Even the guilty deserve a defence.”
The man looked at me bewildered and said, “You are different, Roman. To come to the aid of a man you do not know. To speak words of justice, even for me?”
Sighing, I replied, “If I were to walk by when an injustice is being done, then I am no better than the ones committing it. It might as well be me tossing the stones.
In any case, come with me. I’ll keep you safe, and we can talk about what crime you believe you have committed.”
I turned to my men, who had started to push forward, slowly dispersing the crowd. No mob can stand against trained Roman soldiers.
“Centurion,” I called out. He turned to raise his gladius before his face and responded, “General!”
“We will escort...” I heard a whisper carried upon a brush of wind. “Thank you.”
I turned back, thinking it was the man, but he had vanished. I looked to the path about thirty meters away. There was no plausible way he could have reached it. I glanced up at the wall, briefly considering if he had somehow scaled it using the numerous cracks, but it was far too tall, and the seams looked too frail to bear any weight.
How? He was no youth to move so swiftly and surely, and I would have heard the faintest rustle of dirt, felling of brittle rubble. How?
“General?” Shouted the centurion awaiting my command.
I had no words. I was in disbelief. I raised and waved my hand no, then turned my thoughts to this man who should have been severely injured by the angered stones. And what about the deep still bloody wound about his—his.... and now this, gone in a whisper.
These perplexing thoughts consumed me as I made my way back home. Not even the compelling desire to make love to my wife, who was as an angel or maybe a she-devil, invitingly laid-out-naked, upon the silk sheets of our bed.
Still, I could not quell the chaos swirling in my confused weary mind as I lay staring at the ceiling beside my tempting love, haunted by the enigmatic encounter.
The events of that night left me with an unsettling feeling that gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. I couldn’t shake the sense of curiosity that gripped me in the dark alley, nor the lingering foreboding that clung to my thoughts like an insistent shadow.
Questions raced through my mind like an avalanche, cascading over one another, vying for my attention. What manner of man was he? How could he have vanished into thin air in front of so many of us? Why couldn't I shake free from his gaze? And what about that....something else...There was something elusive, yet its importance eluded me.
IT must be of no consequence, for I drew a blank, my memory shrouded in haunting whispers.
These questions became my nocturnal companions, casting eerie shapes in the corners of my dreams. Hypnotic, enigmatic riddles, that refused to yield explanation as my mind and body surrendered.
Morning came all too quickly, as it so often does when rest is fleeting. The enigmatic man’s image lingered with my waking thoughts, accompanied by the cheerful tweets of birds and muffled shuffles of life outside my room.
While I gazed at the frescoed ceiling, my determination solidified. Tonight, I intended to venture out, hoping to locate him and find answers to questions that kept me from my wife and a restful sleep.
As I rose and changed my tunic, I heard the cherished voices of my love, as well as the energetic giggles of my daughters, echoing down the hallway. It was then I decided to keep the encounter from my wife; no need to worry her about unruly mobs or a ghostly man.
Throughout the day, my wife tended to her garden, while the children devoted themselves to their studies and played outside in the courtyard.
Meanwhile, I immersed myself in my paperwork, preparing for my insisted meeting with the Queen. Alexandria helped me select suitable attire for the occasion, and we enjoyed pleasant conversation until supper.
After tucking my beloved wildlings to bed with a goodnight kiss, I once again found the night drawing me back to patrol the streets.
The cool night air clung to my silver-plated armour, gnawing at it like a persistent predator, compelling me to tightly wrap my cloak around my frame and sheath my exposed—pimpled arms.
As I ventured down the narrow, eerily silent, dimly lit streets, whose cobblestones still reeked with piss—I masked my nose and mouth as I retraced my steps to the blood-stained spot I encountered the mysterious man. A mixture of curiosity and uneasiness churned in my stomach.
Deep down, I knew he would not be there. But to my astonishment, there I stood, and even more surprisingly, so did he—cloaked and moving with stealth among the shadows cast by the torch-lit houses. His odd behaviour intrigued me, compelling me to follow him discreetly along the eastern path.
I had to remain vigilant as he frequently peered over his shoulder, nearly spotting me on several occasions before I could swiftly conceal myself within the shadow of a nearby doorway.
We crossed a babbling stream and moved through a patch of woods that eventually led to a towering mountain. High above, I spotted the entrance to a tunnel, its opening carefully carved into the rocky face.
The pitch-black tunnel’s entrance was wide but gradually narrowed, forcing me to turn sideways and carefully shimmy along. Holding my breath so as not to scrape my armour against the stone wall and startle my quarry, I pressed forward through the tight darkness.
As I ventured deeper through the narrow pass, the familiar scent of smoke engaged my senses, just as the distant flicker of light seized my eyes, rousing me to hastily exit my confined, murky coffin.
With a few sidesteps more, I entered a spacious alcove that led to a doorway, not a perfect creation but a chiselled-out hole. It was bathed in dancing amber light, revealing mysterious shadowed forms beyond.
Kneeling, I cautiously shifted to the side of the door, allowing me to peek inside. In the dimly lit chamber, three pillars stood, each bearing a large basin filled with fluttering flames. Another cloaked figure was present, their voices murmuring in Arabic, words I could not comprehend.
The two cloaked figures knelt before a slightly elevated mound of dirt, engaging in what I presumed to be Arabic prayer. They swayed back and forth, their hands clasped in devotion as they chanted.
Seeking a better vantage point, I silently moved to the opposite side of the entrance, climbing a sloped mound of stones.
Suddenly, I heard a deep ominous growl, followed by the tranquil flames shifting from their peaceful orange to a rising, furious dance of blue that cast a dark blue veil over the room.
In this eerie azure darkness, I perceived the unsettling sound of massive rocks grinding or shifting, immediately succeeded by the emergence of yet another cloaked figure.
This foreboding figure stood at an imposing 8 to 10 feet.
I squinted, wondering if maybe some dirt found its way into my eyes or if the eerie blue flames played tricks on my mind, for I could not believe what they were revealing.
Despite my racing heart and frayed nerves, the sight before me seemed undeniably real. This towering figure appeared to materialise out of thin air, or perhaps it was responsible for the earlier shifting of stones I had heard. I couldn’t be sure.
As the figure moved toward the kneeling men, rubble fell before me, and the ground shook as if in an earthquake. Unlike a normal person, this-this, whatever it was—produced a heavy, clopping sound as its massive hooves breached its cloak and struck the floor, resembling the thundering steps of a colossal horse weighing a thousand pounds.
And my eyes widened as I watched, becoming a witness to a fearful sight. The kneeling men stretched out their hands to take the hand of this massive being above them.
But it was not a human hand they took hold of; it was a long, black, and bony charred appendage, something grotesque, with claws almost as long as the fingers that supported them.
In all my years, I had never seen or even heard of such an unearthly entity. It was unmistakenly not of this world.
My mouth turned instantly dry, and I couldn’t swallow as I clutched my pounding heart, fearing they could surely hear its resounding beat.
Despite the overwhelming terror, I found myself unable to move, frozen in place as I watched them kiss the malformed and seared hand. It was then that I noticed the nearest man was missing the small finger of his right hand.
After releasing its hand, they began to speak. As they conversed, it paced back and forth with thunderous, echoing stomps, casting an imposing shadow over them.
I could not catch many words that I could understand, except for one… Horus. I was not sure if they meant the House of Horus, I had so recently come to know, or something else.
Every fibre of my being begged me to leave, but I remained, to tear myself away.
I watched as this thing paced, at times heading in my direction, only to stop. Though it was maybe six meters away, it stretched out its arm past the sleeve and ran its charred hand over the blue flame in the basin without so much as a flinch or whimper of pain.
It was truly a remarkable sight.
Then, to my dismay, I saw what I wish I had not. My face, heart and stomach sank as I finally discerned, amidst the blue flickering light that outlined its form and pierced its hood, the charred, red-mottled visage of a goat or ram.
Its intense crimson eyes and perpetually snarling mouth struck terror within me. Beyond the nightmarish, animalistic face, it bore the white horns of a ram. These massive horns spiralled upwards and around the back of its head before sharply arching forward, their tips ending on either side of its long white-haired chin.
A shiver raced down my spine, and my skin erupted in a sea of goosebumps as dread gripped me.
Every hair stood tall and rigid, a silent warning that I needed to flee, or my life would be forfeit.
This was the creature of nightmares, the dark tales I have only read about in forbidden books.
I wished with every part of my being that this wasn’t real. But deep down, I knew the truth my eyes conveyed as it seized my shivering soul.
This was no mere mortal in costume; it was a Demon.
Every fibre of my being screamed: ‘RUN NOW!’
With caution, I lowered my foot to depart, but a cluster of pebbles shifted and rolled down the mound, their echoes reverberating through the hollow.
The sound was enough to startle the men to their feet and elicit a guttural, incomprehensible growl from the Demon.
It raised its charred, elongated, and clawed finger, pointing it menacingly in my direction. I swiftly concealed my head with my cloak and made a run for it.
As I fled, the cave housing the beast was plunged into darkness, and I could hear the rustle of feet running towards me and the echo of heavy hooves furiously pounding the ground in pursuit.
Growls and hisses filled the damp air as the creature galloped relentlessly. My shivering body screamed that the Demon was chasing me.
I felt a fleeting wisp of air, a near miss as something grazed my arm, and the unmistakable sensation of hot breath huffing upon my neck, carrying its sulphurous stench into my nose.
“Ahhhh...” I screamed, a horrifying shriek tearing through the air as the unseen horror breathing down my neck propelled me into a desperate, frantic escape.
I don’t know how, but I flew through that narrow passage, disregarding the scores upon my armour, the sound my grating cuirass made, and the searing pain in my legs felt as they scraped against the jagged walls.
My only thought was to not look back. You do not want to see this thing behind you, the thing whose growls, heavy hooves and huffs drew nearer and nearer in echoing pursuit.
I did not fear the cloaked me; they are men—I can handle them…But that...whatever it was, I cannot deal with.
As I ran, I kept repeating to myself, ‘Just make it to the light, make it outside. There’s no way it can fit all the way through; it’s way too big. You can make it.’
At last, I did. I could breathe again, seeing the moonlit tops of swaying trees past the landing cliff. Before I knew it, I was out and down the cliff, through the shaded woods and over the stream.
I did not stop or look back until I came to my home and the guards stationed outside it.
“You ok, General?” They asked as I bent over, trying to catch my breath, peering behind me, hoping my fears had not followed. I mustered enough strength to shakily wave them off. “I’m ok.”
Regaining my composure and breath, I stood up and instructed one of the centurions to bring more men to stand guard with them and to send some around the back, while I went inside.
I consider myself a brave man, but what I encountered was beyond anything I had ever imagined. It was something I knew in my heart I could not fight and hope to survive.
I was terrified. Not just for myself, but for my family, my girls. What if this thing saw where I went? What if it can do things as it did in the cave, like appear from nothing? I wouldn’t be able to defend against that. Its face, its hands, as though hell itself was emblazoned across its body. It did stretch its arms beyond what is normal for any living thing; what if it can do more?
My mind raced through the night, fear constricting my thoughts as I vigilantly paced from my girl's room to my wife’s and back again.
Was that the master the man I saved the previous night mentioned? He said he betrayed his master. Was that him—it, the Demon? Is that why he was stoned? Was it even him kneeling to the demon? I could not be certain.
And what of the other man with the missing finger? Why would he be there, and why would they be mentioning Horus? So many questions I needed to answer. But first, my family.
With sword in hand, I remained on guard, fully aware that if anyone or anything should find their way here, I would be unrelenting and ruthless in their destruction. It was all I could do to protect my family.
Yet, deep down, I felt truly helpless after witnessing such a thing.
Thankfully, courage entered my body once more as dawn approached and I felt that whatever that was did not know who I was or where I went. So, for now, my family remains safe, and my curiosity endured.
***
Brooklyn suddenly stopped typing and swivelled her chair to meet my gaze. She rolled closer and placed her loving hand upon my leg, which was crossed over the other, trying to subdue its involuntary shaking.
My expression must have betrayed the whirlwind of emotions inside, and I confess, I was indeed lost at that moment. So vivid was my recollection, that it was as though I travelled back through the annals of time to relive a haunting past.
For two millennia, I’ve refined the art of steeling myself to heartache. It’s a skill that tragically comes with ease when one has been borne to witness the death of family, century after century, and you yourself become the harbinger of death that disintegrates lives and destroys families.
In that moment, I reflected on how I used to be, when I was mortal, before I became what I was to become. And I remembered how this demon transformed a battle-hardened, tactical, and unwavering General—who had never backed down from a good fight—into a fearful and uncertain Father and husband.
And how, over the centuries, I have been witness to countless fathers, much like I once was, who, despite their mortal limitations and the knowledge that they couldn’t possibly defend against me, ultimately sacrificed themselves in a desperate attempt to protect the ones they love.
That, my friend, is pure love—a love I have had to bury long ago—a love that was now being exhumed.
Locking eyes with me, Brooklyn spoke with genuine sympathy, “That’s enough for today, Papi.”
I nodded in agreement, and she returned her attention to the computer, saying as she wheeled back to her desk, “We can continue another day when you are ready.” After turning off the monitor, she smacked her legs, stood, and suggested, “How about we go out for a bite.”