The end of the night was still far off when Marfisa and Medulfa challenged each other. On one side the swan of Lugdunum, on the other the she-wolf of Alexandria.
One against the other, the rivals moved with great strength and skill. The clash was so fierce that the sound of their blows could be heard far beyond the forest, echoing off the walls of the houses.
Now Medulfa took the initiative and leapt at Marfisa, mace raised as high as she could, and said: "I will not be as famous as you, but I assure you that I will give you plenty to do in this fight."
Threatening her, Medulfa unleashed a blow worthy of all respect, but Marfisa was ready to react, and with the arm her cloak was wrapped around she deflected the mace to the side, absorbing its impact.
When it came to strength, Medulfa had the edge, but Marfisa was more dexterous and quicker. Indeed, the Swan of Lugdunum was right to think she had an easy time of it, so imagine her surprise when she saw Medulfa sprint forward, taking away the space she needed to lunge.
Marfisa tried to strike her in the head with the hilt of her sword, but Medulfa blocked it. She grabbed her forearm and held it up, saying: "And you want to win Madalgarius' heart? With such weak arms, you might be better off as a baker or a florist."
Marfisa made no reply, except for a violent headbutt that did not move Medulfa an inch, except for her lips: "Really?" said the disciple of Aesculapius, looking her straight in the eye. "A headbutt to me, that among women I excel in physical strength?"
Again, Marfisa did not answer. She inhaled deeply and, looking at her, exhaled a cold breath that irritated her eyes. As soon as Medulfa closed them, Marfisa put her foot on her knee and, thrusting herself up, kneed her, causing her to fall backwards.
Blinded and stunned, the she-wolf of Alexandria instinctively pushed her opponent back and retreated, seeking a safe distance.
"You little..." said Medulfa, bringing her hand to her muzzle.
"My arms may be weak, but my legs are apparently strong," replied Marfisa.
In anger, Medulfa struck again and again, with a clang of metal that echoed through the night until, after the last blow, there was only silence.
They looked around with uneasy glances. This was, after all, a forest sacred to Jupiter, and when the heat had passed, a sense of awe mixed with shame filled their hearts. Perhaps it was better to change battlegrounds? Perhaps that was what Medulfa was thinking, for with a kick to Marfisa's stomach, she disengaged. She jumped back a few times and retreated.
"Where are you going, you bitch?! You think you can compete with me and then run away?" said Marfisa angrily. "This is where we decide who gets Madalgarius! And don't think I'll let you postpone this fight, because I can follow you to the ends of the earth without tiring!"
"Without tiring? And yet I see you already out of breath! Or are you out of breath because you are thinking of Madalgarius and me on our wedding day?" said Medulfa, teasing her, for she knew the second style of fencing well, and how to invite her opponent to attack in his own time and on his own terms.
So Medulfa took her to the top of the Oppian hill, where the Baths of Titian and Trajan stood. And it was in the middle of these two places that Medulfa stopped and turned to Marfisa and said: "Now I have played with you, but I have first set my eyes on Madalgarius, so resolve to leave him to me forever, otherwise I shall really hurt you".
I don't have to tell you how Marfisa burned at her rival's words. She replied: "Deh! You want to hit me, thinking you are not looking for trouble. Just because I held back, don't raise your head. You are good at mockery but let us see your arrogance when it comes to getting hurt.
Either you or I will have to give up Madalgarius, as far as I can see. But I assure you, you can't send me away, and soon you won't be able to stand up, for I will beat you so badly that you will hide among the whores of Suburra to escape me."
As Marfisa spoke, Medulfa became so disturbed that she could only see red. With blood glowing in her face, she said: "I am Medulfa, disciple of Aesculapius, do not treat me like those ladies of the night who boast and boast of their noble lover, for when I have finished with you, you will seek a rich lover, and you will ask him not for money, but to send me a hundred guards!"
With these words, Medulfa took up the mace and began to fight harder than before. The weapons of the two maidens struck with such force that the clash of weapons echoed throughout Rome. Each tried to finish quickly. They understood the need for haste, for once Madalgarius had left the city, there would be little hope of finding him.
Nevertheless, they fought on, hoping to end the battle quickly and force the other to give up their beloved Madalgarius. Indeed, they were astonished to see how much the moon had shifted during the night, and that the battle was still going on, horribly and endlessly.
Immediately Medulfa lowered her mace and, looking towards the walls of Rome, said: "Marfisa, out of civility, let us now suspend the battle and let me follow my man, for I shall be indebted to you for the rest of my life. Its madness to make such a war together for nothing. He for whom we suffer is gone. Let me, by Jupiter, pursue him."
"No, no..." replied Marfisa, shaking her head "...do not even think of it. If you want the battle between us to end, you must give him up. I assure you that only one of us will have to seek him out on this hill. If I win, it will be my affair. If you defeat me, I will leave it to you."
"By the blessed gods! You will gain little from this contest..." replied Medulfa, "...but if you're looking for trouble, you'll get it!"
The fierce fight began again. Not even the sun, which sees the whole world, had ever seen two women so stubborn. Despite the aggressive words, even Marfisa was surprised at how long the fight lasted.
Only once before had she fought for such a long time: with her brother Rogerius. And only with him and Hermanubius, the black jackal of Nubia, had she ever lost.
Still, Marfisa considered herself undefeated and would not be defeated by Medulfa.
The two continued to fight through the streets of Rome, with Medulfa taunting Marfisa and Marfisa countering. They wounded each other with blows or insults until they reached Porta Esquilina, exhausted.
Despite their initial intentions, both had to stop, exhausted, panting and with their muscles begging for a truce.
They stopped near the Lake of Orpheus: a fountain made up of three concentric circles, the central one larger than the other two. They stood at each end, well apart, both out of the obvious need for caution and the necessary civility in times of truce.
Marfisa removed her helmet and dipped it into the cold water of the fountain. It had never been so pleasant for her to drink after such a long battle. She sat down on the edge of the well and gazed at the stars. Medulfa imitated her rival and, quenching her thirst, sat down on the opposite edge.
There was an unrelenting silence, broken only by the roar of the water. Both ladies felt oppressed by a strange sense of unease as they rested. The passage of the cohort of vigiles, intent on their nightly patrol, did not help. Marfisa and Medulfa smiled nervously, but they were both too well known for their weapons to arouse suspicion. They finally breathed a sigh of relief, but when silence returned, so did the oppressive unease.
"So... you're a doctor, right? How did you end up as a gladiator?" said Marfisa, trying to make conversation and stamping a veil of confusion on Medulfa's face, who replied: "Are you really going to chat with me?"
"How the hell do I know? Half the time I have no idea what I'm doing. I guess people are less likely to kill someone they've been in good company with. It's a win-win situation for both of us.
"I don't... want to kill you. Maybe hurt you..." Medulfa snorted and answered Marfisa's question: "...I don't know. I like to smash things in anger. I like to be greeted by the inhabitants of the neighbourhood when I walk down the street. I don't know. After years of hard study, I need someone to recognise my commitment. You instead? Shouldn't you be spending your time in some dusty library, researching strange things from the forest of Hercynia?"
"Ah, perhaps it's the fault of my father, who told me stories of ancient heroes when I was a child. That's where I got the urge to study fencing. I don't know. It takes hard work to study rhetoric, law, science, but people talk more about you if you're someone who fights in the arena..." said Marfisa, looking up at the sky, "...it's just that at some point you feel you deserve some recognition."
Medulfa also raised her eyes and said: "Yes, people don't realise how hard studying is and how much knowledge we possess."
"Well, surely the world would be more civilised if everyone studied a little more. Or at least if they understood what it means to be us. They would listen more instead of following the charlatan on duty.
Maybe that's why I feel lonely. I have studied a lot and gained knowledge that few have. I am proud of that, but in a way I feel isolated because there are only ignorant people around me. I like to feel that people are close to me. Maybe that is why I like Madalgarius," said Marfisa.
Medulfa snapped at the mention of Madalgarius, and when Marfisa realised what her words had caused, she snapped in return. The peace that had been created by this friendly conversation vanished, and the previous animosity resurfaced. But the hostility did not immediately escalate into armed confrontation. Both had risen, but in the heat of the moment had left their weapons lying around.
After the initial outburst, they calmed down. They grabbed their weapons and took up positions as if for a duel, determined to end the conflict once and for all. Boys! Always causing trouble. These two ladies could have been great friends if it weren't for you bloody men. Ah, what am I saying? After all, I got married too.
They began to face each other again, with fierce and threatening looks. Each was more than astonished to have found such a stubborn rival. At first, each had thought they would have an easy time of it. Now, as they looked at each other, they judged well and saw for certain that there was no great difference between them.
But there was a difference, and Medulfa was aware that she was not the one with the advantage. Sooner or later either Marfisa's skill or luck would end the fight to her disadvantage. She lowered her weapon and spread her arms, tauntingly inviting her to attack, as the second style of fencing taught.
Of the two styles, Marfisa preferred the first, so Medulfa knew full well that she would have attacked, for the first style taught to always take the initiative and attack directly, without complex and articulated plans. What she may not have known or remembered was that the first style also taught how to conceal one's intentions through deception.
Marfisa eagerly threw herself at her opponent, knowing full well that she was walking into a trap. She made an impetuous leap, but as her heel hit the ground, Marfisa turned and changed direction. Medulfa was expecting the attack from the left, but it came from the right.
The flat of the blade struck her forehead and she lost her balance. But do not think, my readers, that this was the end for Medulfa, for the first style does not content itself with the first blow but prepares in advance a series of attacks that will certainly not stop until victory is assured. So it was that our disciple of Aesculapius had to suffer.
She was kicked in the shin, causing her to lose her balance and end up in the air. Then there was an elbow to the diaphragm, which threw her far. Medulfa rolled for metres until she crashed into the wall of the Titian's Baths, leaving her club at the feet of a victorious Marfisa.
Well, what else is there to say? Medulfa was on the ground, slammed against the wall, and Marfisa stood solemnly. And as is customary when there is a victor, they both heard someone clapping in the air and saying: "Well done, my lady..." I said, "...you have shown yourself to be worthy of praise. But while you were fighting this champion, your prize took wings and flew away from Rome. You do not know where he has gone or what his intentions are. Now he has gone far away and will return who knows when."
"Go tell her that," said Medulfa, getting to her feet. She ignored me and started towards Marfisa when I stood between her and Marfisa, raising my arm and saying: "A defeated enemy does not get up, at least not to attack."
"All right! Who are you and what do you have to do with this?" said Medulfa, returning calm and collected. "How do you know of Madalgarius? Are you also a rival of mine? Because I swear to you, if you want him too, I will not hold back, and you will really be hurt."
I was half tempted to laugh. I held myself back and answered her as follows:
"First of all, my dear Medulfa, that you both long for Madalgarius, by dawn half of Rome will know..." said I, "...you know it is not good to shout your secrets in the silence of the night, especially if you want them to remain so."
"...!" (Marfisa).
"...!" (Medulfa).
The two women blushed in embarrassment, hoping with all their hearts that no one had heard them shouting and arguing.
"Secondly, my name is Varuclezia, and you need not be afraid of me. I am quite sure that I am not your rival..." I told her as I proudly showed her the beautiful wedding ring, I wore on my finger... all right, it's actually a very ordinary and plain gold ring. But since it's a gift from my husband, it's by definition the most beautiful ring you've ever seen.
"Anyway..." I said, "...now I am curious to know how you will find the man you love."
"Don't underestimate me. Madalgarius said he was going to the catizi to get information about his golden apples. My brother has a wife who lives near the catizi," said Marfisa.
"Rogerius is married?"
"Valens! You know perfectly well how many married brothers I have."
I chuckled.
"Uh, uh! My Marfisa thinks of them all. Your brother would like to know that you are visiting his wife." I said, then turned to Medulfa and said: "You young lady? What are your plans?"
"Ah! Don't underestimate me. I too know where to find the catizi!" said Medulfa proudly.
"Good for you then. I'm sure you can compete to get to Madalgarius first without killing each other," said I.
Marfisa and Medulfa looked at each other and then, after a look of disdain, walked off in opposite directions, leaving me alone in the middle of the road.
I looked to the right, then to the left, then picked up my notebook and began engraving in the wax with my stylus.
"We're on chapter five...let's make it six and we've established characters, motivations, a love triangle, two action scenes..." I wrote, "...I'm a genius! I'm a genius!!!"
I closed my notebook and went home happy. Marfisa was also on her way home, walking towards the imperial palaces, determined to leave Rome as soon as possible.
She raised her head towards the lamps that lit the street and noticed that they had been on for a long time. This was good news, for it meant that everyone in the palace was asleep and no one would see her return in tears.
The street was completely empty, although there was some movement from the windows, and Marfisa went completely unnoticed as she arrived at the door of her house.
She fumbled in her pocket for her keys when she realised, she was carrying the golden apples Madalgarius had given her. She could see it clearly, even though the light from the streetlamps was dim and the moon was partially obscured by clouds.
She would have liked to say that the apples shone with a light of their own, but it would be more accurate to say that they were so bright that the little light that came through the air was enough to preserve the colour they would have had if it had been broad daylight.
Shame and embarrassment slowly faded into the background as curiosity and intrigue took their place and the image of another Madalgarius returned to her mind. Not the Madalgarius on his knees for his swordplay, but the Madalgarius who had fascinated her and given her such pleasant moments in the library.
The more she looked at the apples, the more the image of him in her mind seemed to change, as if to become more enchanting and, in a way, feyer, almost as if he were not human.
She wiped the tears from her cheeks. She put the apple back in her pocket, then entered one of the side doors of the Imperial Palace. She immediately locked it behind her, keeping her back to the door as if to prevent anything from entering. The image of Madalgarius continued to haunt her even within these walls.
She was now in the Tiberian House, the area of the palaces where some of the court officials lived. She tiptoed through the cellars, pantries, kitchens and millstones, then slipped into the main corridor.
She walked through the entire Tiberian House until she reached the domus Gelotiana: a secluded building in the palace complex that served as her home.
Sneaking in like a thief, she reached the kitchen and drank a glass of wine mixed with honey to calm her nerves.
She began to feel calmer. She sat down at the table and placed the golden apple on it, then lit a glass oil lamp and illuminated the living room.
The room was austere, the walls painted with trees, shrubs and bushes that gave way to a wide blue sky that made the room look like a pavilion erected in the middle of a garden.
The furniture, made of a dark wood, blended in well with this landscape and went almost unnoticed in the darkness of the night. It was different with the ivory, ebony and silver ornaments that stood out in the dim light, though not as much as the golden apple.
These were antiques that Marfisa had collected over the years, and that Rolandus had helped her to collect.
Many of them were objects made by the hands of various artists trained in the fine arts developed in Greece. Most of them depicted nymphs and satyrs, or other supernatural creatures. There were some artefacts, acquired at no small cost, of mysterious or at least not very clear origin.
They were strange, if not downright grotesque. Strange creatures and strange places carved out of various materials. Creatures never seen and never heard, that should not have existed. Places where it would not have been strange to find a tree capable of producing golden apples.
She rose from her chair and fetched a cup that served as a candleholder and had once belonged to the famous Darius III, King of Kings of Persia. After the defeat of the King of Kings at Gaugamela, it had passed into the hands of the even more famous Alexander III of Macedon, and from there to his general Ptolemy, when the former died and the latter became King of Egypt.
After him, it remained in the possession of the Ptolemaic dynasty until Queen Cleopatra VII offered it as a gift to General Mark Antony when she tried to ingratiate herself with him at the time of the Second Triumvirate.
The history of such an object alone makes it a valuable heirloom, but it must be remembered that it was made at a time when the technique of blowing had not yet been invented, while candles were a recent innovation.
Certainly in the time of Darius III it was (and still is) a marvel of technology that few could afford, but Marfisa knew more than the man who sold it to her (and he would have sold it to her for an even higher price if he had only known this secret).
The goblet was made of unbreakable glass, but it was made a good four centuries before the technique of making such glass was invented in Rome. For this reason, Marfisa immediately realised that she was looking at an object of fey origin, unknown to its previous owner.
The artistic details carved in relief on the glass were also too sophisticated for the time, but if anyone doubted Marfisa's judgement in such matters, there was something else that suggested a fey origin.
Marfisa set the goblet down and looked at it carefully: it was a gorgeous azure blue, depicting a bucolic landscape of trees framed by distant mountains. She lit a candle and placed it in the cup.
The goblet changed colour to an eerie bright red, casting strange shadows on the faces of the nymphs depicted on the room's ornaments. The landscape immediately changed, the gentle mountain forests giving way to an alien, unnatural environment with something wrong about it that was difficult to identify.
A single tree dominated the scene with its silver leaves and golden apples, while in the background three suns appeared, silhouetting three shadows of different lengths and consistencies at the foot of the tree.
What dream or nightmare could have inspired the artist to depict this environment, which seemed beyond human comprehension or representation? What creatures lived in such a place? And what doors might have led them into this world? If such a thing was possible or desirable.
These and other thoughts plagued her mind as the light distorted the paintings on the walls, erasing the thin line that separated the reality of this room from the images on the walls.
The trees painted on the walls of the room swayed and danced as if moved by the wind in the light of the candle, which crackled like rain on the glass. Then Marfisa heard footsteps that were not her own and a shiver ran down her spine.
