Chapter 38 – Roma

Robert watched as Vance supervised the transfer of the family luggage off the train and onto a cart. Surrounded by the hustle and bustle on the streets and pavement around Roma Termini, he felt a bit unsteady. Mama and Papa had left for the hotel with the entourage in tow, but Robert stayed behind for a breath of air, after the too-stuffy air of the coach. Rome at last, he thought. Marvelous to finally be here. Naples and Sorrento were still further on, but they were getting close.

Vance had just finished giving instructions to the luggage cart driver, when he saw Robert hold his hand to his head and seem to sway. He rapidly rushed to his side. "Viscount? Are you well?"

Robert shook his head to clear it. "Yes, Vance. I think." He grimaced. "A bit of unsettled tummy."

Vance produced a metal vial from his coat. "Here."

Robert eyed it.

"Milk of magnesia, sir. Settles my stomach." He wrinkled his nose. "All this funny food."

"Funny food?"

Vance shrugged. "Sorry… fancy food. Different sauces and the like."

"Yes, I know what you mean." There had been something very odd about the steak he'd been served on the train. Perhaps it gone a bit off? Maybe that was it. It had left a greasy aftertaste which had not gone away, plus he had a headache and was thirsty.

Vance pointed. "Sir, there is a bench just over here. Perhaps if you sit?"

Robert nodded. "Good idea." He sat down on the stone bench, while Vance stood behind him. Robert surveyed the horse-drawn carts, omnibuses, and crowds on foot flowing in all directions past the train station. "Looks like Piccadilly on a Friday night," Robert mused. The same sorts of crowd, Robert thought, and even the cobble-stones looked much the same. They may even be from the same quarry. But of course, the language was frenetic Italian, and the people were more animated than English.

"Yes, sir." Vance stood stiffly, acting, as a virtual bodyguard, shooing away all manner of would be tourist guides, beggars, and what might be pickpockets.

Robert examined the train station he'd just left. The building was of stone and brick, with columns on the front of the side wings. The central portion had a steep roof, behind an ornate clock. Robert checked his watch and then adjusted the time. He closed his eyes, feeling the heat of the early afternoon bake into his bones.

"Your first time in Rome, Vance?" Robert asked the valet.

"Yes, sir." Vance smelled manure, unwashed bodies, and the aroma of food stacked on carts. "It's…"

"It's what?"

"Nothing, sir," Vance said. Must not be too familiar with the young gentleman.

Robert looked up at the valet, who appeared to be uneasy. "Fragrant, isn't it?"

Vance nodded. "I agree."

Pointing he said, "Look there. Those are frangipani trees. That's the flowery smell. Also known as plumeria." Robert looked at the buildings ranked on the square around the station. Much of the visible stucco was looking faded or was missing and needed a good patching. Any exposed brick was a hodge-podge of new and old, with some of the lower levels the very flat ancient Roman type of brick. "Rome – the Eternal City," he muttered. "Romulus and Remus would be proud."

Vance looked around at the buildings, many of which looked rather worn down to him. "Yes sir." Nothing that a good fire couldn't cure for urban renewal he imagined. He preferred England.

Robert said, "They argue about the year, but we know the day, which is April 21. Probably in the mid-eighth century. Before the birth of Christ, that is." He got up and stretched. "Perhaps we ought to get on to the hotel?"

"Yes, Viscount." All he had to do was turn and walk to the curb and raise his hand, and a cab was rapidly driven up to him.

The coachman, a swarthy fellow, dressed in dark trousers and jacket, but an open necked shirt (none of which looked very clean) looked down at him. "Signore! Dove?" he said in fluid words.

Vance was dumbfounded. He supposed that was where to? "Hotel Metropolitan," he told the man.

"Si," the man replied and sat up there holding the reins in hand. "Molto velocemente!"

Vance finally understood that the man would not be dismounting to open the cab door, so he did it. Robert was suddenly by his side and he climbed in.

"Come on now Vance, unless you plan on running alongside," Robert told him. "Come on. Climb in here."

"Yes, sir." Vance climbed in stiffly, not accustomed to be sitting next to the young master.

"Per quanto tempo mio buon uomo?" Robert asked the cabman.

"Venti minuti in più o in meno!" the cab driver laughed, and then he whipped his reins and the horses started pulling.

Robert clapped his hands. "He says it's a twenty-minute trip, but I'll wager he takes the long way. I don't speak very much Italian," he chuckled. "But just enough."

"Very good sir," Vance replied. Just then the cab lurched over a rough patch of street. "Bloody! Watch it!" he shouted. "Sorry, sir," he added softly.

Robert laughed. "When in Rome…" He stopped when he saw the confused look of the valet. "The saying goes, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do.'" He reached up and grabbed a strap hung from the roof so Vance copied him.

Vance was not exactly comforted by Robert's words as the cab seemed to find each and every pothole in the roadway for the next thirty minutes.