Our Eternal Curse I (27 page)

Walking through the narrow
rain-soaked streets of Cambridge they found the tavern where so much damage had
been done the night before.  Opening the heavy door Robert sheepishly crossed
the threshold and much to his surprise the place fell completely silent, it was
though the sound of voices had been coming from outside.

All those who remembered
Robert’s terrible conduct the night before stared at the couple in the doorway
which made Anton extremely nervous as he was not yet aware of his new-found
companion’s poor behavior.

Looking up from his work the
hugely powerful landlord stopped pouring beer and made his way from the bar. 
As he approached Robert he looked him sternly in the eyes and said, “I don’t
want any trouble tonight.  It took me and the wife ages to clean up your mess
last night.”

“
I am deeply sorry about last night’s performance,”
replied Robert wondering if the badly scarred man who possessed such huge
forearms was going to harm him in some way.  He could see that Anton was quite
shaken by the palpable aggression of the man standing in front of them so
Robert attempted to take the heat out of the situation by adding, “Please pass
my heartfelt apologies to your good lady wife.  There will be no a repeat of my
boorish behavior I assure you.”

The landlord was obviously
convinced by the Robert’s sincerity and after a moment’s hesitation said,
“Apology accepted, young Sir.  Come in and have another, more gentle, go at the
ale?”

Unable to face the taste of beer
but hungry for its effects Robert asked, “Do you have anything other than
beer?”

“
Wine,” said Anton.  “My family is one of the
largest producers of wine in Italy.  You English don’t seem to like it much but
it is a very good drink.”  Turning to the landlord he added, “Show me your
cellar.  This calls for the subtlety of an Italian palate.”

With these enthusiastic words
Anton innocently introduced his new friend to the latter’s next self-destructive
vice.

Robert attended every lecture he
could and because of his inability to construct written words committed
everything to memory.  A compromised system of verbal testing was created to
accommodate Robert’s shortcoming and his razor-sharp memory soon proved more
efficient than the notes that other students were forbidden to use in exams.

The changes within him were
complete and noticed by all but while the academic masters reveled in his
unexpected genius the masters in charge of rowing were all very disappointed. 
Robert had so completely found learning that he only practiced for the many
intervarsity regattas after lectures and at weekends.

He was by far the most
accomplished oarsman and his loss of enthusiasm for their sport worried them
greatly but try as they might none of them could entice Robert away from his
new obsession.

While Robert loved all aspects
of history he became particularly fascinated with the study of Rome and
regularly spent hours scouring the various university libraries for books on
Latin society, architecture, politics, law, commerce, medicine and war.  It
took a good deal of dedicated practice to overcome his reading disability but
Robert’s ever-eager mind soon devised a system of liberating information from
the jumble of words on the page be they in English, Greek or Latin.

While deciphering a particularly
tatty old book, as he lay on the riverbank one sunny afternoon, he found
himself intimately connected to a conflict called the Marsic war.  Turning page
after page he urgently followed the story, which commanded his attention until
two printed images stopped him dead in his tracks.  Robert’s heart raced as he
looked at two hauntingly familiar sets of eyes staring out of the dog-eared
paper.  Drawing his own eyes to the bottom of the page in search of an
explanation for the images, the words in italic typeface told how the prints
had been taken from lithographic plates which were in turn taken from the
drawings of two Roman stone carvings created in antiquity.

The faces were very faded and
hard to make out but the eyes on the right and left-hand pages were still very
clear.  As a shadow cast over the paper Robert read the name Gaius Marius at
the base of the left-hand print and Lucius Cornelius Sulla on the right.  With
no regard for defacing such a valuable old book, Robert felt compelled to rip
out the pages.

“
Arguably two of the greatest Romans who ever
lived,” said the voice behind the shadow.

Looking up Robert was dazed by
both the contents of the book and the sunshine in his eyes.  “Anton?”  he said,
recognizing his classmate.  “Tell me all you know about them?”

“
Family legend has it our benefactor was extremely
close to General Sulla.”  Anton slowly maneuvered his heavy body to the ground
as he added, “As for Gaius Marius, I have no more knowledge than is printed in
the history ...” Anton’s words simply tapered off.  The book lying on the
riverbank had caught his full attention.

Puzzled, Robert followed Anton’s
eyes to the page and found himself looking directly into the etching of a
beautifully carved marble bust of himself.  It was as though a stone mirror had
been placed in front of him and Robert could not comprehend the bizarre
feelings it provoked within.

Both gazed unspeaking at the
bust with its unusual crown of olive leaves and cloak clasp of wheat and grape
vines.

Anton read the carved name at
its base: “Gaius Marius the Younger.”  And with this exchange, the young men
began a deep bond with a mutual love of Rome as its foundation.

As they got to know each other
better, Robert learned that Anton’s family had been trading commodities for
nearly two thousand years.  The family founder was also known as Anton, or
Antonius as the name was pronounced in classical times.

The family had not sent him to
Cambridge solely to get away from the French occupation.  Like all good traders
they instinctively knew when a worthwhile deal was in the offing.  They had
been developing markets in up-and-coming nations since the time of their
founder.

Commerce was in their blood and
they believed that England was about to become an even greater industrial
nation.  Anton’s father wanted him to become familiar with the English
mentality because he believed that once the British army beat Napoleon there
would be a great deal of bartering to be done and money to be made.

Not a day went by without Robert
spending time with Anton, or Antonius as he was known in Rome.  Robert would
borrow the amulet from Mr Woods and study each golden detail of the “lions” as
his companion recounted magnificent stories from antiquity.  He had such a
wonderfully broad understanding of history and Robert positively craved
information about Rome in particular.  It felt like the city was calling to
him, just as the sirens called the Argonauts in one of Anton’s stories.

Studying together Robert learned
the tactics of two of the greatest generals of their time and felt he
understood Marius and Sulla intimately.  As he read the historic accounts of
their battles he noticed the similarity between the tactics of Napoleon’s Grand
Army and the Roman legions.

When he compared the published
reports of Bonaparte’s battles with the chronicles of the past he understood
how the subtle tactics of great Roman generals were now being employed on the
battlefields of Europe.  Arthur Wellesley had been correct with his advice that
fighting a war was a science which could be learned.  History can teach a great
deal about the moves of one’s opponent.

As he became intimate with every
aspect of Roman conflicts Robert found an unexplained phenomenon while studying
pre-Christian Rome.  Reading about the struggle between Marius and Sulla felt
like he was there with them, yet anything after that time felt like nothing
more than being an observer. Robert read as many books as he could find about
other periods in Roman history but nothing sparked the same emotions as Marius
and Sulla.

During his half-term break he
asked his mother if she had ever read to him about Gaius Marius or Sulla as a
child.  She had never even heard of either man so that couldn’t be the reason
for his feelings of intimacy.

Robert searched his father’s
vast library but none of the gold leaf words on the pale brown spines of the
beautifully leather-bound books fitted his criteria.  Some of them contained Roman
history but they were all concerned with Imperial Rome which meant none of them
dealt with the Republic — the time before Christ.

While carefully leafing through
the books Robert found only two which triggered memories.  One was a reference
to Julius Caesar which seemed vaguely familiar and the other was an English
translation of Homer’s
Iliad
which prompted the same passionate feelings
as Marius and Sulla.  Robert asked if he could keep the old book and of course,
his father agreed.

Lord and Lady Pishiobury were
delighted by the reports of Robert’s newfound academic achievement.  Both they
and Nanny heaved a collective sigh on behalf of their wonderful son.  They did
not understand the power Rome held over Robert but they relished the fact that
his interest had changed his long term plans.

All thoughts of joining the army
seemed to be replaced by his complete fascination with history and it was their
wishful hope that Robert’s obsession with the detective work which he was
allowing to become his entire life would last until at least the defeat of
Bonaparte.

The year was 1811 and Robert
turned eighteen.  His body was incredible to look at because it had been molded
by years of working at the oars. He had a wonderful face, piercing brown eyes
and a full head of the same color brunet hair as his mother.  All in all he was
a very good-looking boy who was very sought after by society mothers.

Everyone in the upper classes
liked him and thought of him as a well-adjusted, extroverted young man with
excellent prospects for marriage.  He made them all laugh with his clever
observations and in the company of Cambridge society he behaved himself
completely.  Many of the up-and-coming society girls found him extremely
attractive; on the other hand, he felt they couldn’t be interested in someone
as pathetic as him.  This frustrating impasse caused deadlock because the
custom in polite society prevented a lady from approaching a man.

Many very eligible girls were
deeply disappointed by his lack of response to their subtle displays of
interest and they all assumed that he was too busy pursuing academic success to
concern himself with romance.  No one had any idea that behind his powerful
personality lurked a sad little boy completely terrified of letting anyone
close enough to see the real him.

When he mingled with the local
working people in the taverns of Cambridge however, he behaved very
differently.  Robert was turning to wine more and more as a means of silencing
the doubts that constantly lingered within him and on one memorable occasion,
while enjoying a drink with Endicott and his teammates, he met Nell.

About two years older than him
and stunning in appearance she had intelligent, very pale blue eyes and equally
pale, almost white skin.  As a maid in the household of one of the college
deans she had only one day off each fortnight and as always she was using her
precious time to have a drink with friends.

Robert noticed the girl as she
walked into the tavern but other than longing to be wanted by someone so
lovely, had not given her any thought because he knew that she could never find
him attractive.  He did not yet know it but Nell was from London and not as shy
as the local Cambridge girls.  She knew what she wanted and had complete confidence
in her ability to attract the men she desired.

Nell had been giving off all the
signals that usually worked for her and was a little surprised that he had not
responded to any of them.  Curious, she eventually walked over to Robert, who
by this time was quite drunk, and while standing behind him, said in her broad
cockney accent, “’allow good lookin.”

Robert looked at his friends to
see which one she was talking to but they all stared past him towards the girl
without replying.  He turned to look at the source of the voice and found
himself looking into a pair of beautifully, smiling eyes.  In disbelief he
asked, “Are you talking to me?”

“
Yeah I am ’ansome.  Dya wanna buy me a drink then?”

She was a vision to look at and
Robert could not believe what was happening.  “Yes I would like to buy you a
drink, what would you like?”

“
Gin, luv!”

“
Certainly, please excuse me while I go to the bar.”

As he left to purchase the
drinks the other lads gave her a playful ribbing which Nell responded to with
good humor.

“
Be gentle with him, old girl,” said one.

“
He’s a virgin, you know?”  added another.

“
Don’t you young gentlemen pay no mind to what I’m
going to do to your friend, suffice to say he won’t be disappointed.”  Nell
winked and burst into a raucous laughter.

Robert returned with a gin which
he handed to Nell and a pint for each of his companions.

“
Ain’t ya gonna tell me ya name then?”

“
Of course …  Sorry …  How rude of me … My name is
Robert …  May I ask yours?”

Robert was obviously having
trouble communicating with a woman, and he was still unable to understand why
someone so lovely was showing interest in him; but he liked the feelings of
self-assurance her attention stirred within.

“
Nell.”  The gin was downed in a second. “Let’s get
out of ’eer luvvy!”

“
What do you mean?”  he asked completely unsure how
to deal with the situation before him.

“
Let’s go for a walk by the river!”

He looked at his trusted
teammates for advice and to a man they all said, “Go on Pishiobury — what are
you waiting for, a bloody formal invitation?”

Leaving the pub they walked the
short distance to the river and Robert could think of nothing to say.  He
thought about making a joke but even his playground character deserted him.

“
I know a nice little spot I do,” said Nell. “We
won’t be disturbed there.”

Leading him by the hand she
seemed able to see in the dark.  Nell had obviously been to her little spot, as
she called it, many times and needed no light to find it.  Once there she lay
down in the long grass and playfully beckoned for him to join her.

“
Shall I lay my jacket on the ground for you? The
grass is damp and your back will get wet.”  Robert was very excited and making
nervous conversation to hide his lack of experience in these matters.

“
It ain’t me back what’s gonna get wet darlin!” said
Nell laughing raucously.  She was a little drunk and more than a little excited
by the prospect of deflowering such a good looking toff.

Robert lowered himself down to
lie beside her and she took complete control of his sex education.  Clumsily exploring
Nell’s body he became lost in the wonder of sexual expression.  Obviously
experienced, Nell did things with her mouth that boggled his mind and the touch
of her skin coupled with the smell of her body gave Robert a fantastic escape
through sexual pleasure.

After what seemed like hours
spent caressing her wonderful form, Nell guiding him into her and Robert felt
somehow validated as every positive emotion he had ever experienced came to
life.  At the moment of climax he fell gently upon Nell in a state of complete
exhaustion.  Robert’s mind had never been so totally occupied at any stage in
his life and no fear or trepidation had been allowed to enter his thoughts for
the seven minutes her act of seduction had taken.

While they both enjoyed the
experience thoroughly each saw what they had just done in a completely
different way.  He found the pleasure of lovemaking intoxicating while she had
enjoyed a quick “shag” with a posh bloke.

Poor innocent Robert interpreted
her interest in him as a miraculous breakthrough in his life but Nell saw it as
another roll in the grass.  At the end of her act of purely hedonistic pleasure
Nell stood up pulled up her knickers and brushed her skirt clean of any
telltale blades of grass.

Robert lay on his back with his
eyes closed savoring the wonderful feelings welling up inside him.

“
Goodnight darlin!” was all Robert heard as she
walked briskly away.

Opening his eyes he jumped to
his feet and called after her, “When will I see you again Nell?”

There was no reply she had disappeared
into the night.  He called out her name once more but Nell was completely gone
so he lay back down on the flattened grass exhausted.  The feeling of being
with a woman had been all consuming and her attention, however fleeting, made
him feel worthy.  Like all people who look into themselves and find nothing to
love, Robert found a way to falsely interpret their physical act of lust as a
thing of value.  With no regard for her obvious lack of any emotional
attachment for him, he fell in love with his image of Nell.  So desperately in
need of the approval of a beautiful woman he clung to the little she had given
him like an emotional life-raft.

At every opportunity Robert
returned to the tavern in the hope of seeing his Nell once more and her two-week
absence allowed his imagination to construct a divine, almost Goddess-like
character.  When they eventually met for the second time he was deeply in love
with someone who had never existed.  It was so hard for him to reconcile the
fact that Nell only just recognized him.  She was drinking with another
university student and it was clear that the grass on the riverbank was going
to be flattened again, but not by him.

Robert ran from the tavern with
the agony of rejection pulsing throughout his body.  His defensive mind
hopelessly unable to make sense of Nell’s rebuttal.  Sitting by the moonlit
river Robert’s pain morphed into anger as he created another less-flattering
fantasy character for Nell.

What began as a loathing of Nell
transformed itself to a detestation of women.  His disturbed logic coming to
the conclusion that Mrs Putnham was a woman and she had caused him terrible
pain, therefore all woman cause pain.  The fact that his beloved mother and
Nanny were women was entirely overlooked by his warped mind and his misguided
perception of such a large part of the human population caught him on the horns
of a dilemma.  Robert found the act of sex all consuming and he wanted more,
but unless he was to become like the boys who shared a bed with each other he
was going to have to find a way to communicate with members of the very gender
he now distrusted and loathed completely.

Robert’s unleashed sexual
desires drove him to overcome both his fear of rejection and newfound hatred of
women.  Like an actor in a play he adapted his amusing character to fool the
working class girls into believing he was attractive.  As long as he imagined
someone else was doing the talking he found the confidence to entice his
victims onto the riverbank.  Then at the very moment he finished his purely
physical act Robert’s manner became unfeeling and cold.

Running away from his shameful
deed Robert left the girls to deal with their own confused emotions.  He could
muster no sympathy for his victims because anyone who cared for him must be
just as worthless as he believed himself to be.

Ironically, Robert never pushed
a girl against her will, a simple, “no,” always stopped him dead in his tracks
because in the deepest part of himself he was still a truly decent human being.