Rufus of Rhodes Volume Ii: Marching with the Legions

By Allen Russo

The second volume of the life of Rufus, personal physician to Julius Caesar, completes the astounding saga brought forth through Edgar Wedge, a tire salesman, by the process of hypnotic regression therapy. Rufus embarks on a trip from central Gaul to Rome on a secret mission for Caesar to uncover, and hopefully prevent, an attempt to assassinate him.
Rufus gradually realizes the futility of war. Caesars battle with Germanic invaders to Northern Gaul further strengthens his conviction that Caesars early idealistic motivation for the Gallic wars has been replaced by his compulsion to gain power at any price.
Rufus troubled love affair with Princess Aedua reaches an unexpected conclusion.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Mar 31, 2008
• ISBN: 9781469102108

Allen Russo

John Edward Allen, M.D. and Raymond M. Russo, M.D., pediatricians and educators, have published four novels in addition to numerous scientific articles and textbooks. Both physicians have held full professorships in major American medical schools.

Book preview

RUFUS OF RHODES

VOLUME II

Marching with the Legions

Allen-Russo

Copyright © 2008 by Allen-Russo.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

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46234

Contents

AUTHOR’S NOTE

LIST OF CHARACTERS

PART I

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

PART II

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

PART III

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

GLOSSARY

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The historical background of this novel is based on extensive research and is believed by the authors to be an accurate portrayal of Roman history at the time of the Gallic Wars and the rise in power of Julius Caesar. Every attempt has been made to preserve historical accuracy within the limits of a historical novel.

To assist the reader we have included a listing of the characters with a brief description of each as well as a glossary of Latin and Gallic words and phrases. Latin words are in italics to allow easier reference to the glossary. We trust the reader will experience, as we have, this remarkable time of Julius Caesar, the Ciceros, and the Roman Republic in the first century before the Christian era.

Rufus of Rhodes is a novel published in two volumes: Eagle, Caduceus, and Boar (ISBN 1-4010-6684-4) and the current Marching with the Legions. In the first volume, Dr. Aaron Glatzer, skilled in the process of hypnotic regression therapy, brings forward the reincarnated life of a young Roman military physician, Rufus of Rhodes. The hypnotic subject, Edgar Wedge, a 20th century tire salesman, is suffering from compulsive eating and smoking which are now greatly overshadowed by a career-threatening fear of flying. Rufus, through Edgar, relates a story of his own life intertwined with the exploits of Julius Caesar and his political and military objectives. Rufus’ revelations change the lives of Edgar, his family, and the researchers engaged in bringing this voice of the past to the present century. At the end of this volume, Rufus is sent on a spy mission to Rome aimed at uncovering an assassination plot against Caesar.

The authors want to acknowledge the invaluable contributions Nancy Allen has made in the preparation and editing of this book.

RMR and JEA

image%201.jpg

CAESAR’S

CAMPAIGN AGAINST ARIOVISTUS

58 BCE

LIST OF CHARACTERS

Aedua      Celtic princess, Rufus’ lover

Ahenobarbus, Lucius D.      Roman senator, enemy of Caesar

Allorix      Master of the Horse/Burdigala’s lover

Ariovistus      German chieftain

Asclepiades of Bithnia      Greek physician, teacher of Rufus

Attius      Reformed assassin and scout

Berecynthia      Rescued Helvetian, Rufus’ assistant

Baculus      Roman centurion, friend of Rufus

Briccriu      Wife of Decimus, an innkeeper

Burdigala      Aedua’s protector and companion

Caesar, Julius      Roman general and statesman

Calpurnia      Piso’s wife, Caesar’s mother-in-law

Casticus      Berecynthia’s husband

Ceos      Dwarf assassin

Cicero, Marcus Tullius (Tully)      Exiled Roman statesman

Cicero, Quintus Tullius (Quint)      Governor of Asia, Marcus’ brother

Claudius      Valeria’s uncle

Clodia      Clodius’ sister

Clodius      Roman statesman

Decimus      Innkeeper at the Bears Head Inn

Dedmocles      Purser on Hirundo Maris, assassin

Deirdre      Aedua’s sister, Caesar’s lover

Diviciacus      Haeduan chief, friend of Rome

Dunkeld, Pere      Haeduan farmer, friend of Aedua

Dumnorix      Enemy of Rome, Aedua’s brother

Frugi, Caius Calpurnius Piso      Tullia’s husband

Gaius      Memmius Roman senator

Galfridus      Caesar’s secretary

Glatzer, Aaron, MD      Psychiatrist

Gnaeus      Defector from Ahenobarbus

Iphinoe      Slave from Rhodes, Rufus’ mother

Labienus      General under Caesar

Lug      Celtic warrior, becomes Rufus’ slave

Mamurra      Chief engineer in Caesar’s army

Marcus Dandrius      Master of the Hirundo Maris

Maximus      Physician in Caesar’s army

Messalinus      Medical technician, enemy of Rufus

Molo of Rhodes      Rhetorician, teacher of Rufus

Nemeton      Gallic priest, friend of Rufus

Nimess      Ariovistus’ young daughter

Nomentanus, Caelius      Officer aboard the Hirundo Maris

Pamphilus      Tribune of the Soldiers

Phillipus      Caesar’s scribe

Piso, Lucius      Calpurnius Caesar’s father-in-law and consul

Plancus      General/Rufus’ commanding officer

Pollo      A first centurion, Rufus’ arch-enemy

Procillus      Caesar’s emissary to Ariovistus

Posidonius      Teacher of Rufus and the Ciceros

Remedius, Sextus      Steersman on the Hirundo Maris

Rufus of Rhodes      Protagonist

Thaslamus      Slave betrothed to Berecynthia

Tigurine      Protégé of Rufus, Aedua’s brother

Tullia      Daughter of Marcus Cicero

Valeria      Tigurine’s lover/fiancee

Vorenus, Lucius      Centurion, friend of Rufus

PART I

THE CARDINAL’S SUGGESTION

CHAPTER ONE

The Cardinal was angry. He had Monsignor Terry Harnett wait in his outer office for over two hours; a marked contrast with earlier meetings when he was the fair-haired boy and was hurried in as soon as he had arrived. Monsignor Harnett sat quietly while he waited to be called. He studied a tapestry on one wall of a noli me tangere wrought by a craftsman whose signature was illegible. He noted a small statue of the Holy Mother peering down mournfully at the magazines laid out for visitors. His eyes swung over to the maroon drapes stretched somberly across the floor to ceiling windows. They were drawn back just enough to let in the light of an overcast day. The chairs were apparently accumulated from various places and times. No two matched. A Chippendale mingled uncomfortably with an Empire style, a Thonet, and a Sheraton. A picture of Pope John the XXIII, on his visit to New York, hung far above eye level on a darkly paneled wall.

The Monsignor tried to distract himself from thinking of the impending audience with his Eminence, Cardinal O’Rooney. But, he found it impossible to do. He knew the Cardinal would be upset with him but wasn’t sure to what degree. When he got the phone call from his secretary telling him the archdiocese wanted him to report immediately, he knew what it was about. Actually he was surprised that it took his Eminence so long to call him in. He had been espousing certain views that were clearly heretical and never had received so much as a polite warning. It was, however, the first time he had formally presented his non-orthodox beliefs in a public forum covered by the media.

He let his mind wander back to that forum held five days previously in which he had presented a paper describing an extraordinary instance of a past life speaking to the present. This past life spoke through an ordinary man, Edgar Wedge, who was as close to an average guy as you can find in a multicultural society like the United States. Edgar was one of several vice presidents of Phlatsko Tires, a tire manufacturer based in Los Angeles.

Edgar had a lot to be thankful for. He had developed into a very fine salesman. On a recent trip to Japan, he had negotiated an extremely successful contract with the Japanese. On the strength of that, he had received an immediate promotion to Vice President of Far Eastern Sales and Marketing with a sizeable bonus and a pay increase. The bonus would pay for the construction of an ornate swimming pool in their backyard, an event eagerly anticipated by his wife, Emily, and their teenaged daughter, Allison.

But . . . there was a problem. Edgar had acquired a powerful phobia against air travel. On the trip back from Japan the plane had experienced severe turbulence, and he felt sure the plane would go down and believed death was imminent. He received a blow to his head that required suturing. But worst of all, the air phobia threatened to render him incapable of carrying out his assignments in the Far East.

Edgar, with Emily’s consent, reluctantly agreed to have Dr. Aaron Glatzer, a noted psychoanalyst, evaluate him. Dr. Glatzer specialized in regression analysis, a therapy technique that used hypnosis to recall a patient’s remote past. He hypnotized Edgar and much to everyone’s amazement, Rufus appeared. Edgar was taken back to a past life of more than two thousand years ago. He began speaking classical Latin, introducing himself as Rufus of Rhodes.

Terry recalled the events that led up to his own involvement. Before beginning regression therapy with Dr. Glatzer, Edgar wrote to his brother, George, for advice. George, an ordained Roman Catholic priest and a faculty member of Fordham University, counseled Edgar to undergo therapy with Glatzer. When his past life as Rufus was discovered, Edgar sent him the transcript of the session. His brother was enormously impressed and asked Edgar’s permission to share the transcript with Harnett, also a faculty member at Fordham.

Harnett was able to sit in on one of Edgar’s therapy sessions. He became convinced that Rufus had truly lived some two thousand years ago. He realized the rare opportunity to gather historical information about the first century. BCE. With Edgar’s and Emily’s begrudging approval, he read a paper to the American Association for the History of Medicine expressing the thesis that the regression therapy technique presented a valid method to collect historical information. During the course of the debate, he pointed out that a belief in reincarnation was implied if one expected to rely on past life information. He went as far as to say, I have evidence that in denying reincarnation my church is wrong! This was not well received by the membership—still less by the Church fathers. George Wedge was the only scholar to defend him.

Following the meeting Harnett, George, Emily, and Edgar made the collective decision to continue the sessions with the goal of gathering more historical data. They recognized that they were in for a great deal of controversy but vowed not to be intimidated. Rufus had gotten to the point of telling them about his next assignment. He was to accompany Quintus Cicero, the great Marcus Cicero’s younger brother, and the governor of Asia Minor to Rome. The hidden agenda was to uncover the truth in rumors of a plot against Caesar’s life.

Harnett and George put their trust in the belief that Edgar was incapable of faking the existence of Rufus. But as they spoke that evening after Harnett’s disastrous presentation, Edgar unexpectedly spouted a lengthy quotation in Latin from the ancient philosopher Posidonius. They were astounded! They had placed their reputations on the line in their belief in Edgar and Glatzer’s integrity. But how could he have known to quote an ancient Latin author?

As they were waiting for Edgar’s explanation, the phone rang. Harnett’s secretary was on the line with an urgent summons. The Monsignor was to report to the Cardinal at once. In their haste to catch a flight to New York, they could not wait for Edgar’s explanation. They barely made the last flight out of L.A. International Airport to LaGuardia.

Harnett, lost in the Byzantine folds of these recollections, failed to hear the receptionist invite him into the Cardinal’s office. When he realized he was being summoned, he rose abruptly to his feet and followed her in. A glance around the room told him little had changed from his past visits. The same oak furniture. The same books on canon law and the history of the Church and the four volume set of Butler’s Lives of the Saints. Augustine’s City of God appeared not to have been moved in many years. The dust had settled on the books and rested there immutable. The same maroon curtains covered the windows in the Cardinal’s office that covered the ones in the waiting room; only here, they were not even slightly parted, and no daylight peeped in at all.

Harnett recalled that the Cardinal suffered from chorioretinitis, a chronic inflammation of his eyes. The only light allowed emanated from two dimly lit lamps placed at opposite corners of the room over the bookshelves. A large crucifix dominated the wall behind the Cardinal’s desk, and mountains of paper were strewn everywhere. He could not help noticing some of the reports of old proceedings, plans for renovating the chancellery, and newspaper clippings featuring a much younger Cardinal O’Rooney visiting a ghetto neighborhood.

The Cardinal deliberately refused to rise and greet him. Instead, he sat in sphinx-like silence, his long face set forbiddingly. He had aged considerably over the past year and now kept his eyes shrouded behind a pair of dark glasses. The red hair was nearly all white and his cheeks, once puffy and flushed, were sunken and waxen. But the old temper was very much intact.

Harnett, what in the world do you think you’re doing to yourself? he began.

To me? he asked, lifting an eyebrow

Yes, to you! You have embarrassed yourself even as much as you’ve embarrassed the Church with your nonsense. Past lives, indeed! Where did you get this foolishness?

But your Eminence, it’s the truth! I have been discussing intimate details of the century before our Lord with a per . . . uh . . . someone who’s been there and lived it.

The Cardinal slammed his hand down on the desk before him with such force it startled Harnett. Blaspheme! You persist in mocking our Church!

But your Eminence, it’s as plain as day. The evidence is incontrovertible. I know that this individual has lived before. Perhaps, if you would consider reviewing the findings with me . . .

Cardinal O’Rooney shook his head emphatically from side to side. Glowering, he almost shouted, Never! First of all, you know I’m having too much difficulty with my vision to review a mound of rubbish. Secondly, I will not be co-opted into sanctioning heretical doctrine.

"But there can be no other explanation. Actually, as I read it, Holy Scripture doesn’t deny reincarnation, it simply doesn’t endorse it. The Jewish faith does, however. As stated in the Kabbalah, gigul or reincarnation was accepted until the middle of the nineteenth century. After all, our church grew out of that faith, so our scripture may very well be incomplete. There’s the possibility of the missing gospel . . ."

As he interrupted Terry’s explanation, a dark cloud seemed to have enveloped Cardinal O’Rooney through which only the reddened tip of his nose shone. I will give you twenty-four hours to retract your statement that you, a supposed cleric in the service of our Blessed Lord and the Holy Mother Church, espouse such a patently false belief. Why men have been put to death in ages past for far less. If I don’t have it by then, I will . . . Here the Cardinal paused as if to phrase his next sentence very carefully. Harnett briefly wondered if the Cardinal was thinking of putting him to death. Before he could reject that thought as ridiculous, however, the Cardinal finished his sentence. I will remand this entire affair to the Holy See. The Papal Council will best determine what must be done with you.

Monsignor Harnett sat silently for a long while. He realized that what he said next could change the course of his life. The road seemed to fork out before him. He must choose to march along one branch as a dutiful servant of his Church or choose the other branch and served the truth as he understood it. He knew now how Galileo must have felt, four centuries earlier, when the Church ordered him to abjure his stand that Roman Catholics not be held to a rigidly narrow view of scientific truths that contradict Holy Scripture.

Harnett finally answered. With all due respect, your Eminence, I am mindful that the Vatican saw fit to set aside the adverse action against Galileo, and that John Paul the Second, in 1992, declared the Church wrong in that matter.

The Cardinal rose from his chair visibly upset, the dark glasses he wore askew on his face. Fixing his glasses, he raised his hand and pointed a finger at Monsignor Harnett, You liken your humbuggery to Galileo’s work? This fraud that you are attempting to perpetrate on us? This poppycock story of past lives? How dare you! I want your complete retraction by this time tomorrow or else—or else I shall be forced to . . . to take stronger measures! Do I make myself clear?

Perfectly! said Harnett, who also rose to his feet and, without the usual polite obeisance, turned on his heel and strode out of the office.

The last thing he heard was the Cardinal shouting, Twenty-four hours!

CHAPTER TWO

Terry Harnett was furious. Imagine calling my work humbuggery and a fraud! he said aloud. He went straight back to his apartment and called George Wedge. Pacing up and down in his living room, he waited in vain for the phone to be answered. He then remembered it was Thursday and George would be teaching an afternoon freshman class in theology. He put in a call to the Fordham Theology Department and settled down on the brown two-seater couch placed opposite the fireplace. A secretary called back informing him that Father George would return his call as soon as possible. Harnett kicked off his shoes and padded into the adjoining kitchen. Although small it served his needs. He could have used more counter space and the wall oven no longer worked but he hadn’t used it much anyway. He opened the refrigerator door and peered in at the clutter inside. He had meant to clean the fridge for more days now than he cared to remember but hadn’t gotten around to it. Finally finding some sliced ham, rye bread and a jar of mayonnaise, he fixed himself a sandwich. He hadn’t eaten anything but some buttered toast and a cup of black coffee since early that morning. He poured himself a large glass of skimmed milk and sat at a small Formica topped table that he customarily used when alone. As he munched the sandwich, he gazed out his window at the Fordham campus. He loved the view. He could see the large sweep of lawn that extended from the Administration Building to the steady stream of traffic, both pedestrian and vehicular, that passed along Fordham Road. The real world existed on the other side of the fence shutting in the school. He always thought of the campus as an oasis, an island in the middle of the bustling Bronx. He let the Gothic style stone buildings of the University work their usual magic on him. They reminded him of his days in England when he was a graduate student at Oxford, and the world of scholarly pursuits opened up for him.

Gradually the anger he felt began to dissipate. He could see the Cardinal’s position more clearly. He understood that academic freedom was permissible to everyone providing it did not espouse the views of an organization that supported contrary opinions and held them to be central to its beliefs. The choice was clear to him: either leave the Church and enjoy one’s academic freedom or fight to change Church views from within. A public debate was not likely to result in anything more than a hardening of the Church’s traditional stand on reincarnation.

As he finished his last bite, the phone rang. He raced to pick it up before his answering machine butted in. Ah, George. Thanks for calling back so quickly. I need to talk with you. Can you come up to my place or do you want to meet somewhere else? George indicated that he would leave immediately for Terry’s apartment. Good as his word, he arrived not more than fifteen minutes later. He found Harnett sitting at his large ebony desk in the study. Papers were strewn everywhere as befits a man engaged in historical research. After a few words of greeting, George settled into the beat-up Morris chair flanking the desk. Fix yourself a sandwich, Harnett invited. There’s some cold Budweiser in the fridge.

No thanks, Terry. I had a bite not long ago. How did it go with the Cardinal? he asked.

About as bad as we imagined it would. He wouldn’t listen to a word I said. The meeting was short and to the point. I’m to retract my statements regarding the validity of reincarnation or face any sanctions that the Vatican dares to impose.

George’s face grew serious. Ouch he exclaimed. That mad, was he?

Oh yes. Madder even. I’ve seen his temper before but not like this.

He means business then, does he?

I’m sure he does. He demands my retraction within twenty-four hours or else he takes some unspecified action—probably suspension from my church title. I don’t think he can touch my academic rank so quickly, but lord knows he’ll try his best with the president of the university.

Hmmm, George mused. He got to his feet, went over to the bookshelf and leaned against it for support. What will you do?

Well, it was on the tip of my tongue to tell the old fool to go stuff his church title, but it’s never right to go off half-cocked like that. Still, the last thing I’ll do is suspend my research. Terry Harnett slapped a fist against his hand making a smacking noise that momentarily startled George.

No, you were absolutely right not to react with anger saying something you might regret, like calling him an old fool. You know the saying ‘speak in haste, repent at leisure’.

I offered to have the . . . you’re right, I shouldn’t call him an old fool . . . the fool . . . review the Rufus tapes, but he would have none of it. He has his mind set against any thought that reincarnation may be valid. To him it’s nothing less than heresy.

You would want to keep the university on your side at all costs, interjected George.

Absolutely.

From what I see there is a common issue you can both unite on.

And that is? asked Harnett.

George spoke in measured tones, Academic freedom.

Terry smiled inwardly at George’s zeroing in on the same point he was considering. It was something he knew the university cherished. He also knew that the unlimited freedom he enjoyed was because the university was behind open inquiry and honest research. At last he said, You know George, the last thing in the world that I want is to set the university at odds with the Archdiocese. Don’t see much good coming of that, do you?

George needed no time to consider his answer. Hardly, he said.

And, Terry continued, Fordham has been so very good to me, I’d be nothing more than a sinful ingrate if I didn’t show her all the consideration in the world, now would I?

No you wouldn’t.

And yet I’d be even more of an ingrate if I’d turn my back on the Holy Mother Church, wouldn’t I?

Truly you would.

But didn’t the Lord say you should render unto Caesar what he was owed and unto the Lord what he was owed and still come out a right Christian?

Yes, he did, replied George.

Then, tell me George, how do I do it?

George didn’t need a long time to ponder the answer to Harnett’s question. You give both the university and the Cardinal what they want.

How is that possible?

You separate yourself from your research.

Separate myself from? . . . I get it! You mean tell the Cardinal that I will not personally endorse the concept of reincarnation, but if that becomes the inescapable conclusion people arrive at when they review my research, so be it. Is that what you’re saying?

Yes, and with one more assurance, difficult though it may be.

What’s that? asked Harnett.

Promise the Cardinal your public retraction.

If I did that, I would have to do it in my own way, at my own timing, and in my own words. If he goes for that, so much the better. On the other hand, he will probably insist on having the final say, said Harnett.

George pondered that for awhile. He may very well, but I doubt that he wants to raise the issue with the university and to have the Vatican get involved.

"Right you are, my lad, the Church abhors this kind of public squabble almost as much as they hate the Devil.

Of course, the Cardinal may insist on his own statement. What then? asked George.

That depends on how the statement reads. He’ll not just accept any statement."

Should we work on one now? Terry asked as he reached into his top desk drawer for a pad of white lined paper lying amidst unpaid bills and his checkbook. He took it out of the drawer and began to write. In a few minutes, he had produced a draft.

For those of you who have heard my comments regarding the reality of reincarnation, please know that if I gave the impression that I endorse it as an article of faith, I have been misunderstood. My church does not accept it as a tenet of Roman Catholicism; therefore as a priest I do not either. I do maintain that regression analysis is a perfectly valid research tool.

He may just buy that, Terry. He just may, George responded.

With the statement in hand, Monsignor went back to the Cardinal the next day. The two prelates had a long and detailed discussion. They explored their understanding of what academic freedom meant and how it related to their church. Each man, working in a less emotionally charged climate than the day before, found he could understand the other’s viewpoint better than he thought he could. The Cardinal agreed that the findings of legitimate research should not be suppressed. But, he pointed out, the interpretation of those findings were always open to honest disagreement. Witness how many scientific theories, all supported by research, are the subject of constant debate and controversy, even within the scientific community itself. The Cardinal also reiterated his view that reincarnation is a misinterpretation of the origin of human life and, therefore, cannot be construed as a valid research tool.

Rather than publishing your research as a scientific endeavor, the Cardinal continued, could you see your way to publishing it as a work of fiction? A novel, perhaps? You could then present whatever you wish without fear of conflict from this or any other office of the Church.

Terry Harnett had not previously considered this idea. It intrigued him. He saw immediately that it should end further controversy and yet allow him to write the full story of Rufus as told through Edgar. He only needed to have Edgar continue retrogression analysis and then use the tapes of those sessions to write a fictional account. The fact that a fictional account would undermine the importance of Edgar’s revelations did bother him, but it was the price for peace with his Church. Perhaps with more time, the fiction could be revealed as a true account. Why not? After all, the Church may be slow to change, but it does change. Certainly few priests would seriously question Galileo’s findings today!

It was a difficult compromise for Harnett to accept. Nevertheless he promised the Cardinal he would strongly consider publishing Rufus’ story as fiction. As soon as he told George about the Cardinal’s suggestion, they made plans to return to L.A. and confer with Edgar. How he knew enough to quote an ancient Greek philosopher in Latin weighed heavily on Terry Harnett’s mind. Was Edgar involved in an elaborate deception? Was he or possibly even his psychiatrist, Dr. Glatzer, engineering a hoax, creating Rufus in order to win some sort of public attention? Or, as George stoutly claimed in defense of his brother, There must be some other kind of explanation. Edgar would never pull such a fraudulent act. He’s simply incapable of it.

Yes, I believe you when you say it, but I need to be absolutely sure, said a concerned Monsignor Harnett.

CHAPTER THREE

Edgar sat waiting for the United Flight 1733 from New York to L.A. He was pleased as he relished the fact that he had absolutely no fear of the airplanes landing and taking off. It was in such marked contrast to his reaction a few months ago that it brought a smile to his face. After loading his brother George, Monsignor Harnett, and their luggage into his Chevy Lumina, he noticed that he was not huffing like he would have done previously. Dr. Glatzer’s hypnosis therapy had cured him of smoking and enabled him to control his diet sufficiently to lose fifteen pounds.

You look great, George told him. You’ve been working out?

Yeah, a little, Edgar replied. But mostly controlling my eating and cutting down on beer.

The traffic was bumper to bumper for the next half-hour but the rest of the way was fairly clear. On the freeway from the airport, they quickly caught up on family news. After that George popped the question that was on his and Terry’s mind since the last time they were together. Edgar, I’ve been meaning to ask you about something you said when we last saw each other.

Sure, what’s that? he asked.

"Remember when we were talking about not quitting on finding out more from Rufus simply because Terry’s presentation stirred so much controversy? And you said something in Latin—Quid magis est saxo durum, quid mollius unda."

"Dura tamen molli saxa cavantur aqua, added Terry. It means, ‘Water is soft, and marble hard; and yet, we see soft water through hard marble eat!’"

You guys are putting me on, aren’t you? I never said that! Edgar insisted. The two priests looked at each other, their eyebrows raised in disbelief. Neither one knew what to think. Finally, George said, But Edgar, we both heard you say it just before the Cardinal called, and we had to leave for New York.

I remember you being called and having to go quickly like that—boy, you guys sure jump when the Cardinal calls! But I don’t know anything about that Latin saying. How did it go? Squid, maggots and sacks of durum? I couldn’t possibly say that. George and Terry could hardly believe what they had just heard. They sat without responding for a while. Terry didn’t look his rosy cheeked self. He had gone unusually pale, and George sat rigidly in the back seat of the Lumina. By contrast, Edgar drove only vaguely aware of having caused them such concern. George tried once again, You’re not kidding, are you Edgar? Because, if you are, please stop it right now.

It was Edgar’s turn to look perplexed. I’m not kidding about anything. Why would I want to do that? I don’t understand why you think I said something in Latin when I don’t know five words of the language.

Because you did and we both heard you. Ask Emily. She was there and she heard you too.

Okay. When we get home, we’ll ask Em. Now will that satisfy you? Edgar said with just the slightest trace of annoyance.

Fair enough, said George. They continued their ride in silence until they reached Edgar’s house in suburban L.A. His home, a five bedroom, cobalt blue ranch had a back yard large for the California scene. It was always a pleasure and a source of pride for Edgar to drive in the custom brick driveway. He had converted one of the bedrooms into a study for himself, and Emily used another bedroom for her arts and crafts projects. The spare bedroom was reserved for guests. He was eager to have the pool under construction in the back yard finished. He anticipated the fun they would have inviting friends and neighbors over for swimming parties. Not many had backyard pools on his street.

Emily came out to greet the group. She and Edgar saw them settled in, and while the men freshened up, she prepared iced tea and assorted homemade cookies. While enjoying the snack, they chatted about their flight and the weather in New York. George finally got down to asking Emily if she remembered Edgar spouting off in Latin at their last visit. Emily considered her response for a moment while the three men sat waiting somewhat tensely for her answer.

Edgar did say something in Latin. I don’t remember what it was. I don’t pretend to know Latin, but, yes, he did say it all right. I thought he had learned it from talking with that Rufus fellow.

There! said George. Em heard it too!

I can’t imagine how, said a confused Edgar.

I don’t understand, said George. We all heard you quote a Latin philosopher and you can’t remember? What’s going on here, Edgar?

Nothing’s going on! I don’t remember saying anything like that, that’s all, Edgar replied sharply.

George and Terry decided to let the subject drop. Instead, they made plans to discuss the episode with Dr. Glatzer. They also intended to schedule a fifth session for Edgar. This one would have a far different purpose than the previous four that were intended to help cure Edgar’s air travel phobia, his addiction to tobacco, and his overeating. The new sessions would continue exploring Rufus’ life as a medicus in Caesar’s legions using the regression hypnosis.

Terry and George eagerly awaited the visit to Glatzer. Edgar and Emily were somewhat indifferent since neither of them was eager to hear any more about Rufus especially since Edgar was so improved. They went along with it to please George and the Monsignor.

Terry was very disturbed with Edgar’s inability to recall his speaking in Latin. He wondered if Edgar was deliberately evading the issue. Perhaps it was a very big mistake to believe this whole Rufus story. Was it just a fraud after all? How would the academic community react . . . and, worse yet, what would the Cardinal say?

Time dragged on slowly as they waited for Edgar’s appointment with Dr. Glatzer. After a tasty dinner of roast chicken, hashed brown potatoes, and peas accompanied by generous glasses of a California Chardonnay and followed by Em’s homemade apple pie, the three men retired to the living room to talk about the up coming session. Edgar poured an after dinner drink of Drambuie for each of them and started the gas powered fireplace that he loved so much. Doesn’t make a mess and it comes right on. Much better than those old-fashioned wood burners, he would say each time he fired it up. They chatted well past the time Allison came home from the movies and Em went up to bed.

Whether it was the wine and Drambuie or the full meal they had consumed or perhaps the late hour, no one could say. An extraordinary thing happened. Edgar appeared to dose off with Effie, the family cat, sprawled on his lap. Suddenly he opened his eyes and sat fully upright in his recliner. George and Terry noticed his behavior at the same time. George asked, Edgar, are you all right? He made no response. George then got up and went over to wake him. He shook him gently at first to no avail. A second, more vigorous shake produced a deep throaty sound and Edgar said, "O frater, ego tam fessa sum. Quota hora est?"

George sprang wholly upright. His hand flew involuntarily to his mouth as he stared back down at Edgar. My God! he exclaimed. He’s speaking Latin again.

Terry came over at once. Yes, he said. "He wants to know what time it is. I’ll tell him in Latin. Jam hora noctis septima est."

Multas gratias, said the sleeping Edgar.

Ask him his name, urged George.

Terry stole a sidelong glance at George, caught his meaning and asked, Quid est nomen tibi?

Edgar stretched and yawned but remained strangely unawake. Rufus sum, medicus Caesaris. Archiatros sum.

What’s an Archiatros? asked George.

It’s a Greek term for an imperial physician. He means Caesar’s right hand man in the medical department, I guess.

See if you can get him to speak English.

Rufus, can you speak English with us? Terry asked Edgar.

Easily enough. But your Latin appears to be good, said Rufus out of the mouth of the sleeping Edgar.

Oh, it’s not Monsignor’s Latin that deficient, it’s mine, said George.

Monsignor? said Rufus, is it you, dear friend?

Yes, it is and Father George too.

Ah, yes. How good to hear both of you.

They were amazed at the sudden reappearance of Rufus. Unbidden, unexpected, there he was, like a houseguest who shows up when you’re in the shower, thought George. Except more frightening than that. More frightening because it suggested that Rufus’ appearances were uncontrollable.

The two priests were at a loss for what to do. Torn between seizing the opportunity to continue the dialog with Rufus and their concern for Edgar, they simply stared at each other. Edgar sat motionless in his chair with Effie on his lap, apparently asleep.

We need to reach Glatzer. Should I try calling him now? an alarmed George asked.

Good idea, but at this hour?

Can’t lose just trying. I think Em ought to know about it before we call.

Terry went off in search of Dr. Glatzer’s phone number while George tiptoed into Emily’s bedroom and gently woke her. She sat up with a start when she realized who it was that called to her.

What’s wrong? were the first words out of her mouth.

Nothing is exactly wrong. I mean nothing serious . . .

It’s Edgar again, isn’t it? Or you wouldn’t be were waking me up. What’s he done now?

George placed a soothing hand on Emily’s shoulder and said, Nothing. He’s done nothing. It’s just that he seemed to dose off in the living room and all of a sudden began to speak like Rufus in Latin.

Oh God no! Not Rufus again!

George’s efforts to calm Emily seemed to be failing. He redoubled them. No, you don’t seem to understand. He’s okay. It’s just that we aren’t sure what to do to get Edgar back to himself."

Oh no! Emily wailed. Now she really was upset. She jumped out of bed and grabbed for her robe. Heading for the stairs, she nearly collided with George. Em! he called after her. Wait!

She kept right on going to the living room and ran up to Edgar still sitting upright in his chair, Now you listen to me, Rufus, or whoever you are. You leave my Edgar alone or I’ll . . . I’ll . . . She never finished what she was saying. Edgar stood bolt upright out of his chair. Both he and Effie raced out of the room. When they caught up with them, Edgar was cowering on his bed. Help! he whimpered repeatedly. It was with some difficulty that they calmed him down, but when they did, it was clear that Rufus was no longer with them. There were sighs of relief from the three onlookers. After they reassured Edgar, he fell into a deep sleep, remembering nothing about the episode in the morning.

Returning to the living room, George put in a call to Dr. Glatzer who answered the phone himself. With