Icejacked

The Tour

Leddicus and I strolled down to the hotel breakfast room and arrived at a leisurely nine o’clock. We wandered along the buffet table and selected a plate of hot croissants, some tasty-looking jams, and a cafetière of coffee. Although Leddicus opted for orange juice, his taste buds were still making up their mind about coffee.

The coffee was exquisite. Nobody makes coffee like the Italians. I drank it contentedly as I munched through two croissants, spread generously with the jam that was as delicious as it looked.

“We are going sightseeing today.” I reached for another croissant. “I’m going to take you all around .” Leddicus just nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll get a bus. We can sit on the top deck and get great views.”

I ate thoughtfully for a while and relished this relaxing breakfast. My spirits were high, and I was feeling in holiday mood. “Some of the places I want to take you, we’ll get a taxi, and of course, we’ll do some walking. So eat hearty. You need the calories.” Leddicus just gave me a half-smile. “This is modern , but we will see some buildings that were here when your father lived here. I plan to finish up our tour at the Coliseum and then the .”

I hope we don’t bump into that obnoxious journo.

Leddicus remained unusually quite, but I was in such a good mood that I didn’t really pay much attention. I was just enjoying the opportunity to relax. I polished off a fourth croissant, mopped up the crumbs, and pushed my chair away from the table.

“Ready for another little adventure?” I said.

Leddicus dutifully followed me out of the hotel, and we stepped into the teeming, noisy hurly-burly that is modern . We crossed the road and got on a bus opposite the hotel. It was heading in the right direction for the centre of . Horns honked incessantly as cars, buses, and taxis jostled each other for space on the busy roads. The pavements were crowded with people, smiling, dawdling, rushing, chatting, and sitting in pavement cafes sipping coffee. It was a riot of colour, sound, and movement.

Leddicus finally broke his silence with a long, loud sigh. I looked over at his gloomy face. He sighed again.

“This is not what I expected.” He looked out of the window. The twin creases between his brows looked like two deep scars.

“What did you think it would be like then?” I was a little irritated at his gloomy persona, as I was looking forward to our day out.

“I expected to see people dressed like me, well, not like I am dressed now, but how I used to dress.”

“Hmmm, we unfortunately came in a Boeing 747, not a time machine,” I said a little flippantly. I had tried as best I could to explain that this was two thousand years further on than the he knew.

“I know what you told me about the time gap, but I somehow really thought … I guess I hoped I would be at home …” he tailed off with another long sigh.

I put my hand on his shoulder and tried to imagine how he felt. My irritation evaporated as I realised that perhaps his excitement on the plane was not just about flying, but perhaps also because, in his limited understanding of what had happened to him, he had thought he would find something familiar, something he could recognise. But all he found was more confusion.

“I’m sorry. Can’t imagine how hard it is for you. I hope will help you get a grasp of things. This part of is modern and bustling, but I’ll show you some of your , not the people, of course, but some of the buildings at least.”

We got off the bus outside the Pantheon, the temple to all gods.

“This was built between 118 and 125 ad, a bit later than when your father was here. I think Hadrian, the Roman emperor, had a hand in its construction, so it appeared after your ice encasement.”

Leddicus tried a smile and failed. His gloomy frown dominated. A look of hopelessness crept into his eyes. I gave a mental shrug. Nothing I can do. He’ll have to get on with it. This place is amazing. I wandered around, absorbed, with Leddicus trailing listlessly after me. I was revelling in the wonders of this ancient structure. I stood gazing up at the huge bronze doors as we moved into the cool, marbled, cylindrical main structure. The massive dome arched above us.

“Do you know this was the biggest dome in the world for almost fifteen hundred years?” I was so animated that I didn’t notice his little shrug.

We moved on to look at the Forum.

“I know you haven’t been here before, but I understand this is a huge complex of ruined temple arches and basilicas. Apparently, this was the ceremonial, legal, and social centre of ancient . It was a sort of business centre at that time.”

Leddicus gave a wan smile. “I guess I would have been here with my swatches of cloth.”

This trip was not turning out to be much fun. Nothing seemed to stir him out of his apathy. I had my camera with me, and I rummaged it out of my backpack.

“Hey, let me take your photograph. Stand by that pillar.” I was tempted to say, “So you can show the folks back home,” but caught my undiplomatic words before they spilled out.

Leddicus showed a bit of interest in the camera, and after I had taken a few shots, he had a go at taking a picture of me in front of the ruins. The first attempt chopped off my head, but he got the hang of it after a few more attempts.

The midday sun was starting to sizzle so we ventured down a shady side street and found a quaint pavement café. I intended to introduce Leddicus to the inevitable Italian pizza. He decided on the fish one with anchovies placed artistically across the bubbling cheese base.

He bit into it tentatively, chewed a little, and then smiled broadly for the first time all day. “It’s good!” He bit off another huge chunk. He said something else, which I couldn’t decipher because his mouth was so full. “Do they make oyster ones?” he asked once he could speak more easily.

“Oyster pizza? Now there’s an idea, but I doubt it.”

He sipped at his wine and looked into the middle distance. “When we went to the baths, oyster sellers would always be there. We used to get so hungry after a long bath, and we would eat lots of them.”

I wasn’t keen on oysters or anchovies, but I was pleased to see that the pizza was cheering him up. I pondered why this deep melancholy had enveloped Leddicus since our arrival in Rome. Perhaps his sense of loss was beginning to take hold, but I was no counsellor, especially not of ancient defrosted men.

I paid the bill, and after his mention of the public baths, I thought it would be good to make that our next stop.

“These are the Baths of Diocletian, and they once covered thirty-two acres.” I tried to get the conversation going, but realised he probably had no idea what an acre was.

“Very interesting. I like them.” But his brow remained unusually furrowed. This was quite a dramatic change of attitude for someone who was normally bright, happy, and inquisitive.

We walked around in silence, with me clicking away and pointing out various interesting features, but getting little or no feedback from a leaden Leddicus. The midafternoon slump was hitting me, and the only solution was coffee. I squinted at the guidebook and stabbed at a page.

“That’s where we need to go, a recommended eatery just opposite the Coliseum, our next port of call.” I hailed a taxi and showed the driver the page. He nodded and started gabbling away in Italian.

The taxi stopped right opposite the Coliseum. The driver shrugged placidly as a barrage of horns blared at him while we alighted and paid. We climbed up the stairs and went out onto the veranda. The immense building loomed into view. Its pillars and porticos stretched far above us. We both caught our breath at the size of it.

Leddicus sat down facing the building. Buses, cars, and scooters went hurtling past below us, but he just stared at the Coliseum. He was so absorbed that he simply nodded when I suggested coffee.

I was enthralled, and monologued enthusiastically at Leddicus. “Even compared to modern stadia, it is still an amazing feat of building expertise. It was built around 80 ad and held fifty-five thousand spectators. It was constructed to Emperor Vespasian’s great plan without modern machinery, although there was undoubtedly an endless supply of slave labour to enable its completion.”

“I heard about this building. The plans were being discussed everywhere. The news even reached us in Caesarea Philippi. It was causing quite a stir.” He sipped his coffee and screwed up his face at the taste. I pushed the bowl of sugar toward him and offered him a spoon, miming to him to add some. He did so and then stirred it slowly.

“Why do you say ad when you say the date? Does it have a meaning?”

“Yes.” I reached into my pocket for my sunglasses. The sun was dazzling up here. “It means ‘after Christ.’ In your language, it’s Anno Domini.”

“Anno Domini means ‘in the year of the Lord,’ not ‘after Christ.’ Or as I would say, Anno Domini Nostri Iesu Christi. In the year of our Lord Jesus Christ. How strange. Do you believe he is still alive?”

“I’m afraid, Leddicus, that the conversation has now lost me. Let’s go and have a look inside the Coliseum.”

“We can go in?” He looked surprised.

“We sure can for a couple euros.”

We bravely dodged the murderous traffic, arrived safely on the other side of the road, and followed the signs to Coliseum tickets. I bought a couple, and we shuffled along behind a gaggle of Japanese tourists as they photographed everyone and everything at every step. The arena opened out before us. The enormous size of it had me in awe. I took a few pictures and then turned to point something out to Leddicus, but found him looking more miserable than ever.

“Whatever is the matter?”

“This place, so incredibly big, such an amazing structure. But I feel so much death, death of slaves, death of animals, and death of people. For what purpose? As a spectacle, just for entertainment? We are so wicked. It makes me very sad.” He put his face into his hands and bent his head.

Today, I constantly had no idea what to say. I normally got worn out giving explanations to his constant inquisition. Today, I had only watched him become more and more sad. He had given me no explanation of why, and I had no idea what was in his head.

“Do you want to go back to the hotel?” I felt helpless and more than a little frustrated. I very much wanted to get a good look at this amazing place.

“No, no, I should see what you have brought me here to show me. Where to next?”

Outside, I flagged down a taxi, and we clambered in. “St. Peter’s Square.” The car zoomed off with the horn honking loudly at every opportunity.

“We’ll just go . Then we’ll call it a day.” The taxi screeched to a halt at a red light, and I gripped my seat tightly. “It’s the smallest country in the world.” I could tell that Leddicus was only along for the ride and to please me, but I soldiered on. “The official language is Latin, your language. The population is only eight hundred. The people who live there have their own passport. It even has its own post office.”

Leddicus looked out of the window and paid little attention to my monologue.

“The Pope lives here. He’s the head of the Catholic church, so I guess you could say this is the centre of Christianity.”

Leddicus picked up at the mention of Christianity, “Christian? Like Julie Bright?”

“Oh, did she say she was one?”

“Yes, but she didn’t explain much. She said she would tell me more in .”

“Well, I guess she knows more about it than me. Anyway, this is its centre. Unless I’m mistaken, here we are.”

The taxi drew sharply to a halt. “Vaticano.” The driver snapped. The meter showed the fare to be twenty two euros.

I handed him twenty five euros and switched seamlessly into Italian. “Grazie, tenga il resto.”

The must be the most perfect mix of ancient and modern . There were superb fountains and the vast marbled square for official papal occasions, but beneath each beautifully sculpted ancient statue were subtly positioned equipment to ensure a flood of light when the sun went down. And as we walked, I noticed subtly positioned CCTV cameras, blossoming on every convenient .

We strolled around St. Peter’s Square, past the obelisk, and into the shaded area at the edge of the square. We eventually ended up in the main auditorium. Obviously, a service of some kind was in progress. I heard music and saw lots of people in very large hats. It was all a little lost on me. I didn’t know how to explain it to Leddicus, but as he was watching it all so dispassionately, I doubted he wanted an explanation.

A procession began its slow progress from the rear of the building with censers of incense swinging. The pungent scent floated through the building. The guy at the head of the column looked haughty and grim-faced. He walked erect despite his huge headgear. Many men followed. Their long black robes swished against the marble floor. There was so much pomp and ceremony that it wasn’t really the place to have a chat. There appeared to be many people with scrunched-up faces as they concentrated on the rituals. I wondered what Leddicus was thinking. I wondered if a scrunched-up face was a prerequisite for being spiritual.

I was getting bored and hungry, but I thought it might be disrespectful to leave mid-service. I could see smart-suited men dotted around, security no doubt. They apparently mustered very quickly in the event of misbehaviour or even innocent friendliness, according to a friend of mine who was swiftly ejected when he smiled at and patted one of the priests on the shoulder. Leddicus stood still and listened intently. The ceremony was eventually over. The column of dark-robed men snaked slowly out of the building, and we were back in the sunshine.

I broke the silence. “What do you think of it so far?”

He took a deep breath and seemed to be choosing his words more carefully than usual. “That was very interesting. The ceiling in that building we were just in, the painting was amazing. How did the artist do that?”

“It took him years. I don’t think his neck was ever the same afterward.”

“The soldiers? Are they soldiers? They dress very strangely compared to everyone else.”

“Swiss Guard. They’re from my country. That’s their traditional dress. Wait until you see the Beefeaters in .”

“Beefeater?” Leddicus scratched his head.

“Doesn’t matter. Go on.”

“The ritual in that place, the singing, the talking—I don’t understand it. Is this the Christianity that Julie spoke of?”

It was my turn to scratch my head. “Sorry, Leddicus. I have no idea. Julie is the one to ask. I don’t understand it either. My Latin is—”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. I understood most of it, but it was what they said. I didn’t like it. They did not seem like the people of the way.” He shook his head dismally.

“Your Latin held up then. That’s good. Why didn’t you like it?”

“So formal, so controlled, so controlling, all those strange clothes. They talked about Jesus the Christ. That I know … but … but …”

“What’s wrong? Go on.” I had no clue what he was on about, but I was trying hard to understand, if only to try to help him out of his gloom.

“It’s as if they want to control us, the way that does. watches over every aspect of our lives. We are controlled with very tight boundaries. That is how those people in there spoke, but perhaps I have misunderstood.”

“I’m sure Julie will be able to help you understand a lot better than I can. Let’s put this to one side now until we get to London. I’m tired. Let’s go back to the hotel, get some rest, and then see what tomorrow brings.”

“I’m ready for that.” Leddicus gave me the best smile that I had seen from him all day.

We grabbed a taxi, and I felt relieved to be back in the cool hotel foyer. I suggested we turn in early and left Leddicus at the door to his room. I ordered up a snack for supper from room service and caught up on the news as I ate. I snuggled down into bed and fleetingly wondered what Leddicus had eaten and if he even knew about room service, but sleep rapidly overwhelmed my conscience.