7. Vestal Virgins

As I sat there, tiny puffs of dust began to swirled down Via Sacra toward the Arch of Septimius Severus. In the center of the dusty spheres, I could just barely see toga-clad men leaning toward one another, discussing politics. When they drifted around the corner, all lay still again. Only the buzz of flies and Junebugs reminded me that amongst pedestals and headless statues, life goes on. I began to feel sweat on the back of my neck. Salt lingered on my lips. How long I sat, quietly, undisturbed, at the edge of the shallow pool, I don't know. But when R. finally returned his voice echoed against the fallen masonry, "Barbara, where are you?"

"Here," my voice squeaked and sounded tiny, "I'm sitting on the side of the pool, can't you see me you fool?"

He continued to look around, bent, picked up the fallen tour book, "Don't play games, where are you?"

When he sat next to me on the pools edge, horror struck me. I realized that at this latitude, and in the extraordinary hot afternoon, I sweated and perspired until I dehydrated into a small golden Roman raisin.

"Help, Richard, I'm right beside you." "Help!" I screamed hysterically. "Help."

Something must have caught his attention, because he looked down on the cement ledge where I sat. He began to hum, like he does when he's agitated. Dreamily, he picked me up.

"Ouch, don't pinch," I yelled in an inaudible voice. He rubbed me against his pants trying to get the dust from my weathered folds. But unsatisfied with his cleaning attempts he casually tossed me over his shoulder and into the pool where I instantly rehydrated.

Hearing me splash, R. turned, "What are you doing in the pool?"

"Do you know what pool this is?" I questioned staring him directly in the eyes, as I moved closer in my wet clingie T-shirt.

"N-Na No," he stuttered.

"These are the pools of the ancient Vestal Virgins and I've just been totally rejuvenated..."

Fear twitched around R. mouth, "It's too hot, I've a headache, I haven't had my morning coffee yet," he babbled, stumbling backward toward the 12 dozen steps that lead to the top of The Palatine Hill, the oldest inhabited site in Rome, said to be where Romulus and Remus lived with their wolf- mother.

In Rocky Balboa style, R. turned and ascended the antiquarian stairway leaving Via Sacra the ancient Roman meeting place to its dust. I followed after him stopping to rest midway. By the time I huffed and puffed to the top, the Vestal spell had war off, my T shirt dried to a muddy gray and my hair now looked more like Medusa's than Godiva's.

"Wait for me," I yelled to R. as he looked over the edge of the ruins at the elongated grassy oval of Circus Maximus: ancient Rome's oldest and largest race course.

Being back to my old self, I questioned, "Are you sure that's not just the freeway median?"

Before R. could answer, a security guard spotted us. Through gestures and the rasp of his voice he let us know that The Roman Forum, the Heart of the Empire, Rome's most important temples and halls of justice were now closed to the 20th century

Food, water...

We need food, like beggars that flocked to Rome during the Medieval ages, we crawled across the street to the Metro station and a fast-food pizza stand. With tasty tidbits in hand, we headed for the nearby wall-fountain but our breakfast-lunch pizza was devoured even before we reached the door.

"You go to the fountain, block the spout with your finger and cool off with the jet of water that shoots from the hole in the pipe. The water's pure, so drink up," said R. before he turned with a gallant low bow to buy another round of pizza.

"Let's call it a day. I think we've seen it all now," I whimpered after we ate the second pizza and were lounging beneath the trickling fountain. Today's sights and transformations filled my wanderlust cup to overflowing.

"I think we've done it all now," I repeated shaking my head for emphasis. R. looked at his watch, "4PM" then at me. He knew I was tired but would hate myself the next day if I gave up touring so early in the day.

"We'll go back to the hotel, but I really want to see the Mamertine Prison, it's just up the block. It's a 2,500 year old cistern," he continued, "where the Roman's chained St. Peter and Paul and since we already saw the chains we might as well see the column that he was chained to."

It wasn't his logic that got me to my feet but the thrill of standing on the same spot as this great Catholic hero. How could I miss such a chance just because of weary tourist-eyes? There is always room for just one more shrine. Inside the converted cistern the coolness chilled my spine. I read the list of prisoners who were quartered, strangled, or starved to death. I held R's arm as we descended the stairway, past the image of Peter's face that formed from a guard pushing him into the wall. Down into the dank room and the fountain that sprang up miraculously so Peter could baptize the other prisoners. Ghostly arms began to protrude from the walls, grabbing at my cloths. I put my hands over my ears to shut out the tormented screams that were getting louder and louder.

"Richard get me out of here." I begged.

Unable to see the hideous arms himself, but knowing my sensitivity to the spirit world, and seeing my shaking, pale body, R. quickly pulled me up the stairs and away from the rotting flesh of the grabbing arms. In the sunlight, he petted me, covered me with kisses.

"It's OK now," he soothed. "We'll go back to the hotel room and rest." The thought of being closed up in a hotel room, was now too much like the Mamertine Prison and brought on a wave of nauseous claustrophobia.

"I'm feeling much better now. Full of energy," I lied, "Let's go see what that big white building is. I think it's attached to the prison." I shouted over my shoulder as I bounded up the crooked sidewalk stairway.

"We're going in the wrong direction. Damn, I wish we had the map." grumbled R.

At the top of the crooked stairway, we caught our breath and paused to admire a small statue of Romulus and Remus being suckled by the she-wolf. " I can still see the back of the "Big White Building." R. said. "It's just around the block."

Continue the Story…..

Back to HomePage