across the universe
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"If you wish to be loved, love."
-Seneca
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Jerusalem, 70 CE.
Marius Fridericus Cordus was not a bad man. You couldn't say he was good, either — after all, there have been very little truly good men in history. But, for a start, he was not a bad man. And that was the reason why he felt tremendously guilty upon viewing the state of the city of Jerusalem after the Roman siege.
"Fridericus, we'd better get moving."
He briefly glanced backwards to look at one of his companions, a slurry drunkard born in Gaul by the name of Claudius Aemilius. They had grown fond of each other over the past months, and he was the closest thing to a friend that Fridericus had known since he left his father's house at the age of sixteen to join the Roman legions. Now, aged twenty-four and successfully having become one of the most skilled centurions fighting alongside the emperor Titus, he had grown confident enough with his tactics and ideas and most importantly had become a quiet, reflective man who hoped to develop a political career once he got back to Rome.
He watched how Aemilius trotted down the besieged streets of Jerusalem, waving happily at the women passing nearby. Everyone, Fridericus noted, had their heads bent low and walked silently, almost unnoticeably. Slim and quiet, those were the Jews they had defeated. He nodded to himself, somehow trying to trust the emperor's words about how the Jews would thank them one day for what they had done; for having released them from the asphyxiating boundaries of their own religion.
He and Aemilius reached a small tavern, where the quirky Gallic said he would invite Fridericus to some wine.
"No, no, I'd rather not," replied Fridericus. "I wish to see a little bit more of the city before we go back to the campsite."
"What are you so fond about anyway?" asked Aemilius, his eyebrows rising. "The whole place is in ruins, Fridericus."
The chestnut-haired centurion shrugged his shoulders. He usually had answers for many of poor Aemilius's questions, but that was one inquiry he could not solve.
"I don't know." His eyebrows rose as a contented sigh escaped his lips. "I just want to see the place before we go back to Rome. It's been said we're ought to return soon."
It was now Aemilius's turn to shrug. "Shall we meet here sometime near dawn, then?" When Fridericus did a faint nod, the Gallic wheeled around and, without saying a word, strutted into the tavern. The Roman did a small chuckle and, in a slow-paced manner, continued walking down the street.
He did not see much over the hour that followed — more near-empty houses and streets, heads bent low and silent mumbles in a language he could not speak a single word of. Although being quite fluent in Greek, Fridericus had never managed to learn proper Hebrew — he had once tried, and he had only been awarded with a scornful look from the mayor in charge of his troop upon greeting one of his comrades with a vague shalom.
He arrived to the ruins of the Temple of Jerusalem a while later. It was decaying, almost non-existant, but it shimmered with the gloomy brightness of a place that has once emanated greatness. He guessed the menorah hadn't been delivered back to the temple by the Roman legionaries who had cruelly taken it away. He stood arm-crossed, staring at the ruins with a slight frown on his brow. He silently wondered how would his fellow Romans react if the Temple of Jupiter were to be destroyed by an outlandish army of red-dressed soldiers carrying weapons they had never even heard about. He guessed it would have been severely criticized by many of the city's historians: the people of Rome would grieve in the streets and the emperor would seek revenge.
But what were the Jews doing? Absolutely nothing. They just stood there, accepting their fate as the defeated and clenching their teeth in silence upon their defeaters. They would all soon be forgotten, long-lost in some mine in the north of Africa, or bleeding their hands out to build emperor Titus's new amphitheater. Their defiance, their brave upstanding to the Roman attack would be long gone and forgotten; and in the Roman empire a thousand years later no-one would remember those poor women who grieved the loss of their menorah or the little boys rushing down the streets away from the Roman soldiers tantalizing them.
Another sigh escaped Fridericus's lips as he glanced up at the sky.
It was then when his eyes first landed on a pair of green eyes watching him carefully a few yards away.
He frowned lightly at the sight of the young girl looking at him. She looked like nothing he had seen in Jerusalem before; her skin was almost as pale as his and her hair and eyes were light-coloured. She would have been easily mistaken with a Roman girl had it not been for the typical Jewish dress she wore. The sight of her astounded Fridericus to the marrow, and for a moment he could not move. The first thought that rushed through his head was that she was breathtakingly beautiful.
"Quid est hoc, Romani?" she said only a little later. "What are you looking at, Roman?"
Fridericus was taken aback by the mocking tone in her voice and the fact that she spoke his language fluently.
"I am sorry," he quickly apologized. "I did not intend to seem rude."
"You did not. You simply looked dumbfounded." the girl shrugged her arms with a calm expression on her face.
"Now, did I?" He couldn't help but feel quite amused by the girl's ease. It reminded him of some young women he used to know back in Rome. "What are you doing here? It seems as though it won't be long until dawn."
The girl trotted nearer, a resigned yet slightly cold expression on her face. For reasons Fridericus understood, she had decided to keep her distance.
"My father allowed me to go to the market and I am on my way there." She spoke like she was hiding something from Fridericus. He was not sure he liked that.
"All by yourself?" One of his eyebrows rose.
She shrugged. "He's — permissive."
"Oh, I see." nodded Fridericus. He tilted his head and looked at her for a moment before adding, "Should I help you get there just in case?"
The girl did not seem pleased by his offer. She narrowed her eyes at him, her arms crossed and her expression suddenly deceitful. "Why should I? You're a Roman."
"Well, aren't you?" he replied, perhaps a bit too coolly. When the girl shook her head, his frown deepened. "But you speak perfect Latin. And you look completely different from everyone else around here."
Once again, the girl shrugged. "My father lived in Italy for a few years, and he met my mother there. He always says I'm her spitting image, although I can hardly remember her face." She ran her fingers through her blonde locks absentmindedly and Fridericus couldn't help but thing that she was definitely the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. She then looked back at him with firm green eyes. "But I don't like legionaries. Not after what you did to our people and our temple."
Fridericus's frown deepened and he looked at the girl with slight angriness in his face for a second. He then reminded himself of what he had thought about the temple only a few moments ago, and his expression relaxed. Unlike many of his fellow centurions, he did not despise Jews — he believed in the Roman Gods, of course, but he didn't think those belonging to different religions were to be treated unequally.
"It might comfort you to know that I did not leave the campsite all throughout the siege. I fell sick the day before our troops thrust into the city, and did not leave my bed until two days ago."
"That, I am afraid, will not change much." The girl shrugged her arms yet again and glanced at him with a cold expression.
Fridericus sighed. "Will you at least let me know your name?"
She looked up at him, for once not looking upset or angry.
"Shosanna." She replied quietly. "Shoshanna ben Ishmael."
He nodded. "I am guessing you don't really care, but my name is Marius Fridericus Cordus. But I am almost always called Fridericus."
Now it was Shosanna's time to nod. She took a few moments to study Fridericus with a critical eye that worried the Roman slightly until she nodded again.
"Yes, you may help me get to the market. I suppose it's dangerous for a woman to walk down these streets alone, being so close to dawn."
Fridericus did a small smile and nodded enthusiastically. "Very well then, on we go."
And so both of them set off to the market. Fridericus vaguely wondered what would his mates think if they found out he was having a solid conversation with a Jewess — at first he didn't bother giving it much thought, but he would later ponder it feverishly over the night. The girl, on the other hand, did not seem all too eager to be around him. She just walked quietly, arms fastened around her middle and an absent expression on her face.
When they finally reached the market, Shosanna quietly muttered that she needed to fetch some apples for her father. Food was running short all around Jerusalem, which made prices go through the roof. That was precisely why Shosanna found herself arguing with the seller about the apples' exorbitant prices. Fridericus, though worried, limited himself to a viewer position until the seller interjected in a rather dreadful Latin.
"Methinks the woman wants apples cheap because she friend with Roman!"
Shosanna's first instinct was to glare back at Fridericus, but she then turned back at the seller and growled a few words in Hebrew. Fridericus, perplexed, furrowed his brow at the man and decided to intercede.
"Excuse me, but I am merely escorting this young lady," he replied in the finest Latin he could manage. "I believe she was demanding for a fairer price. Which I might as well agree on — Edepol! These bloody apples are all brown and rotten."
"No business of you, Roman." scowled the seller, who then turned back to Shosanna with an angry note in his voice and started reprimanding her in Hebrew. The girl couldn't do anything but nod quietly, yet angrily, as the man rambled on.
It took everyone in the market a few seconds to realize that Fridericus had punched the seller right in the face.
Shosanna gasped at the sight of the seller's bleeding nose, while Fridericus ruffled his hands against his uniform with a smug expression on his face. The people standing around in tents nearby immediately swirled around and quietly gaped at the Roman who had bothered defending a Jewess, their fearful minds suddenly blown by such an idea. Fridericus's eyebrows rose, still clasping the seller's robe in his hand tightly.
"Will you give the lady her apples for a reasonable price, stultus?" His voice came out as an angry, low growl. Within a few moments, the seller handed Shosanna his best apples and offered them for an amazingly low price.
The girl, glaring scornfully at both men, handed the money over and spun around with the basket on her arm and an angry expression set across her face. Fridericus, now more confused than ever, followed her after dropping the seller.
"Shosanna. Shosanna. Shosanna!" He caught her arm with a frown on his face a few minutes later, in a small street quite away from the market. He looked at her with an angry expression. "I just helped you. Why would you leave like that?"
"I can do things by myself," the girl mumbled, her gaze low. "And anyway — you acted like such a brute back there."
"A — a brute?" Fridericus's frown deepened as he crossed his arms. "Shosanna, I was only trying to help you." The girl did a snort, to which he sighed and shook his head. "I — for Ariadne's webs, I meant no wrong."
"You meant no wrong but you hit that man in the face anyway," she rolled her eyes disdainfully and then shrugged. "A Roman thing, I suppose."
Fridericus glared at her angrily. He tried to convince himself that it was best to leave at that very moment and never see that girl again, but he somehow realized a few moments later that he could not let go of her that easily. The devious girl had somehow crept into him in less than a couple of hours, and he found himself incapable of simply letting her leave.
"I — I'm sorry, Shosanna. I meant no harm with what I did." He finally grumbled, as he was not used to apologizing, much less to a woman and a Jewess. But he did mean it, so he nodded and added, "May I escort you home?"
He glanced at Shosanna with a pleading, rather childish expression on his face. The girl did a sigh, but finally nodded. Fridericus couldn't help but smile ever so meekly, his hands once again on his back and his eyes quietly glancing at the girl every now and then. Shosanna, on the other hand, walked quickly and relishing on the night creeping down at them to steal a glance at the soldier more often than she should have. They arrived at the girl's house about twenty minutes later.
"Well. We're here." The girl eyed him carefully, her arms crossed. "Thank you, Fridericus Cordus."
"It's been a pleasure, Shosanna ben Ishmael." The man smiled lightly, nodding his head. He looked at her for a moment, and then slowly added. "Will I get to see you soon?"
Shosanna looked at him with an odd expression on her face. In the end, however, she nodded quietly. "Yes. Yes, you might see me again. Soon, I suppose — the city isn't that big."
Fridericus beamed. "Very well then! Let's hope we get to meet soon." He paused and, after nodding his head once again, whispered. "Good-night, Shosanna ben Ishmael."
The girl allowed herself to smile for the first time that evening and stood on her tiptoes to press a very brief kiss to his cheek. "Good-night, Marius Fridericus Cordus."
And with that, the girl spun around and walked towards the door, leaving Fridericus all by himself in the midst of the Israeli night. He smiled rather goofily at the reminiscence of the kiss, his hand touching the place where the girl's lips had graced his cheek only a few seconds ago. He could still smell her scent, see her smile — it was nearly unconceivable for him to think that they had only spent together a couple of hours. He crossed his arms, a broad grin on his face, only to remember that he had agreed meeting Aemilius back at the tavern a few hours earlier. He decided to head off towards there, silently wondering if he would really get to see the devious Shosanna ben Ishmael again.
What he did not know then was that he would see her for the rest of his stay in Jerusalem, for the rest of the days until his return to Rome; for the rest of his life.
But for that night, he was just a young man with the new, freshly acquired condition of lover.
this will be a multi-chapter collection of one-shots set in different periods of time, featuring different «alter-egos» of the Inglorious Basterds characters Shosanna Dreyfus and Fredrick Zöller. hope you enjoyed the first chapter, I shall have the following one ready soon enough.
-cluelessclown.