Evening
Prayers for Olivia by
Lygeia Disclaimer:This work of adult
fiction includes adult language and
experiences; you have been warned. No offense to any person, living or
dead, is
intended. Copyright Lygeia 2006.
Oh my Love - my
dear, lost Love.How
can I tell you that today I feel as if
the sun has at last shone on a heart that I had long thought
dead? The
heart that I thought destroyed by all that I have witnessed, all that I
have
done, all that I have borne these past many months once again lives in
the
light! I cannot begin to
describe the
elation that filled me when I saw Cicero's
face in the midst of that maddening, vulgar crowd - the welcome,
familiar face
of an old and cherished friend! Nor can I describe the
emotions that
flooded my very soul when I opened the leather pouch that he had
pressed into
my hand and found the figures of you and our beloved son.
Waves of
emotion and memory washed over me like the tides of the sea. Some memories are
painful nearly
beyond endurance, of course - visions of the horror I found in the
ashes and cinders of our home, visions that I have tried over
and over
again to banish from my thoughts and dreams, but cannot.
Perhaps those
grim visions are necessary, however, for they fuel my goal, my mission
here in
this life, and that is to avenge myself on the monster that destroyed
our home
and our lives. The gods willing, with this vengeance - for
which my very
spirit cries out so that it might find peace - I will also free Rome
from the tyranny imposed
by this impostor of an Emperor. Along with the dark
visionscome
other, softer memories that fill me with feelings of warmth and
tenderness that
many who imagine they know me would think me incapable. To
look at these
figures - worked with love by your own hands and given to me with all
the love
that your heart held - to touch them, to press them to my lips brings
back
other thoughts and feelings that I thought I had long ago hidden deep
within my
heart and mind. At times, to think
too long or hard
on things gone by was so painful that it was much easier to bury my
memories of
you and our son than to give them free rein. It was
easier to act
with cunning and instinct only to survive in order to obtain
the one thing
that kept me alive - revenge! Now though, holding the images
of my family
before me, I seem to sense your spirit near to me, and it gives back to
my soul the humanity I had lost. I remember
so many things
about you, and the memories do not tear now at my heart. I
see clearly
your face, the colour of your hair, your eyes, the form of your body,
and
recall how it felt to hold you close to me. I remember the
laugh that
bubbled up from your throat and erupted in full-blown mirth (sometimes
even
when it shouldn't have), and how the laughter was reflected in the
luminous
twinkle of your eyes. I remember the look of love and joy in
those eyes
when you brought our son into this world, and I thought that my world
could not
have been more joyful or complete, even though I had to be away so
much.
When I had to go, I always carried your love with me. From the time I
first laid eyes
on you, I have loved you all my life. My whole life, even
though I was
avowed to defend Rome
with all my might, I was devoted to you with all my heart. I
was a
soldier, and you know - and knew then - that there were, and would
always be
temptations, but I did not submit to them. Yes, I was sworn
to defend Rome,
but you and our son
were first and always the most precious things in my world, and I never
betrayed you. You were the source of the purest happiness
that I ever
experienced, and my devotion to you - my love for you - never, ever
wavered
through all the years of our life together. I hope - I pray -
that you
truly knew that in the depths of your heart before ...well, before
…. The arena today was
even more
malicious and blood-drenched than ever before. There was a
malignancy of
mood that hung in the very air, and threatened to asphyxiate any who
dared
breathe it. Not only did Commodus arrange not a fight or
battle, but
nothing less than my very murder, to be committed for the entertainment
of his
mob of screaming, blood-besotted Romans, he then forced a face-to-face
confrontation in the arena when his plot failed. Never have I heard
such vile,
venomous words vomited forth from another human being. The
words he spit
at me cut into my heart more deeply than the keenest blade could ever
have
done. I cannot begin to tell you the agony that filled my
heart as I
listened to him profane your memory and that of our son.
Several
Praetoria actually looked away with expressions of shame and
embarrassment. As he taunted me,
it was all I
could do to hold myself in check and not attempt to strangle him on the
spot. I knew that should I make such an attempt, his
Praetoria would have
cut me down in less than a heartbeat. Should that come to
pass, to what
good purpose would my life be spent? No, I must bide my time,
and await
what opportunities the gods might present me. We mortals, as
Proximo is wont to
say, are but shadows and dust. We are but the playthings of
the gods,
fleeting shadows on a changing landscape, and we await the pleasure of
the
gods. It is up to us to recognize the gifts and opportunities
with which
they present us, and put them to the best use. Mere words fail to describe the rage that
arises in me to look
upon Commodus’ sneering, preening countenance.
Knowing full well that he
was the architect of your most foul murders, and that of his own father
- our
great and just Emperor, Marcus Aurelius (the one man in this world that
I loved
and respected, even as I had my own father) - fills me with more hatred
and
contempt than ever I held for any enemy of Rome that I fought in the
past. I realise that I
must swallow my
rage, and keep it in control, lest I lose sight of what needs to be
done.
I told Commodus that the time for honouring himself would soon be at an
end,
but I was wrong. The time for honouring himself has long
since
gone. He victimizes everyone around him - you, our son,
myself, his own
sister, his nephew, his father, even Quintus, who perhaps has his own
flaws,
but had nonetheless been my trusted legate. He makes putrid
everything he
touches. Now it is my
time - to
avenge myself, to avenge you and our son, to avenge Marcus Aurelius,
whose
murder Commodus so cunningly accomplished, and whose position he has
usurped. Yes, perhaps I shall even avenge Rome
herself, which he has so completely
corrupted and debased. If the gods are merciful, Commodus
shall pay for
all the vicious deeds he has done with his life - and at my
hands! I pray with all my
heart that you
are at peace. Are there wild ponies where you are?
Does our son
ride them? You must remind him to keep his heels down, and
always
maintain control - firmly, but with gentleness. You must tell
him that
his father loves him and misses him so very much. Perhaps I
will see him
one day soon. I am so full of
conflicting
emotions; they war with each other within my soul. My love
and sweet
memories of you and our son, my precious wife, are so at odds with my
utter
rage against Commodus, and the carnage and injustice I see all around
me.
How can I ever explain these things to you? Perhaps I need
not explain -
perhaps you already know. Juba spoke to me only moments
ago. He asked me if you
could hear me in the Afterlife. I told him that you
could. I pray …I
know that you can. Do you wait for me, gentle guardian of my
soul?
Do you and our ancestors watch over me and guide my way? I
hope that you
do - please keep your patient watch, and wait for me to come to
you. I
love you so much, and I so dearly want to be with you and our son
again, our
hearts and spirits as one, as they were before we were torn
apart. Keep watch for me,
my Love, in
the sacred peacefulness that is Elysium, and implore the gods to give
me their
counsel. I do not think your solitary vigil will last much
longer.
I do not know what is to come, or how it will be done, but something in
my
heart and spirit - in the very fibre of my being - tells me that we will see
one another
again, very, very soon …soon …. I love you
….
