Damian and Demetrios by J.P. Bowie

Author:J.P. Bowie
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: MLR Press
Published: 2011-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

In my impetuosity, I was of course completely unprepared for the long journey back to Rome. All I had to keep me going was my will, fueled by my anger. My father’s words, so coldly delivered, still rankled in my head. I would not forgive him for this, I thought, as I doggedly trudged along the road that Demetrios and I had traveled only the day before. In the distance, I could see a few stragglers heading my way, pulling carts with the possessions they had saved from the fire.

“Don’t go any further, young master,” one of them cried as I approached. “The city is doomed, and the soldiers are arresting the perpetrators. It is chaos!”

I nodded, but ignored his plea. I knew only too well what awaited me in Rome. I had seen it with my own eyes, felt the heat of the fire on my skin. I lifted my hand in salute as I passed them, my eyes fixed on the road ahead. Of our house, when I reached it, little remained. Yet, in the strange ways that disasters have of sparing a small part of the object in their paths, my studio still stood, only slightly damaged.

Amazed, I pushed my way through the debris that surrounded it, and found myself gazing at that familiar space that now held so many more memories than a mere few weeks ago. The couch where Demetrios and I had lain together… the armature for his body-sculpture…the mold of his beautiful face that I had almost completed… all there, just as I had left them. I picked up the clay I had formed with his noble features, and raised it level with my eyes. Then I kissed his lips.

Overcome with emotion, I sank down on the couch and buried my face in the pillows, trying to find his scent there—but the acrid smell of smoke was everywhere, obliterating the sweetness of his presence. Nearing exhaustion, I closed my eyes and let myself drift into a deep sleep.

I must have slept for many hours, for when I awoke, the first light of dawn was filtering through the studio’s shutters. I rose, parched with thirst, seeking water. The jug I had used to water the wine I had served Demetrios still stood on its table. It was palatable at least, and served to quench my hot thirst. Outside, the sky was still black with smoke, and in the distance, I could see the glow of the fire that raged on. Surely, Rome would never recover from this maelstrom, I thought, as I started out on my journey again.

Now, more people were filling the road, all heading in the opposite direction from me. Many cried out that I should turn back, but once again, I ignored them. If I turned back, I reasoned, then I would never know what had happened to Demetrios. I could not leave it to the chance that he might return to our country home, only to be dismissed curtly by my father, and sent on his way with a few secertes for his trouble.

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