SALVE ROMA! A Felidae Novel - By Akif Pirincci Page 0,46
state of affairs. What on earth was I about to do in this El Dorado for Latin inscriptions lovers? Samantha was gone, Giovanni was too, and without another useful hint or a guiding paw, which led me through the mysterious maze of Rome, I was in a fix. Technically, I should have ruefully went back to Gustav and get in his good books so he would take me back to the manageable backyard idyll. Then the case wouldn’t be solved but let’s face it between you and me and the rest of the criminologists, more than half of all crimes remain unsolved.
As often the case in these tricky situations I suddenly got an idea, which wasn’t related to the actual case at all: The Mona Lisa hangs in the Louvre and is protected against robbery by a security system that probably leaves even Bill Gates clueless. And the isle of Manhattan is probably under such high guard that not even a sewer rat can get inside without proper papers. And here at the Forum Romanum, in the cradle of humanity ... nothing, simply nothing! There weren’t security guards patrolling, no reddish light barriers glowed in the dark, and no CCTV could be seen. Didn’t those responsible for this cultural heritage worry at all that one of these nights guys with fancy names like »Toothpick-Eddy« or »Monocle-Max« showed up, loaded one of the temples on a truck and disappeared? I mean, even a statue’s head from the Forum would bring that much money at the archeological black market that a gangster would be set for life. Or did even the biggest gangsters think it was a sacrilege to steal from Cesar’s treasure chest?
I just couldn’t find a good answer to this, and I didn’t know if I hadn’t missed a hint. In that regard I realized that I found myself in a far more privileged position than a tourist who had to force himself, surrounded by his kind, through the solid masses of the Ancient World under the sun that stole all mystic glamor. Yeah, might as well. Now that I was here and the site was open for me alone, I might as well go for a stroll, and let my memory be my guide. Actually I didn’t have much of a choice anyway, as I had lost my sense of direction as well as my Roman friends in every aspect.
I left the pile of pillars with an elegant leap and began to walk the Via Sacra. Right in front of me was the Lapis Niger, the black stone, a black marble square on the ground. They say that underneath the grave of Romulus, the founder of Rome can be found. The spot shimmered opaque in the moonlight, and it gave me the creeps. To my left hand side I saw the Basilica Aemilia, the only remaining building from the Republican Age. The name probably means »hall of the kings«. The basilica had functioned as stock market and courtroom among other things.
And so it went on, one famous site after the other viewed by me with widening eyes and enjoyed while catching my breath. The fundaments and the truncated columns of the big Basilica here, the remains of the Temple of Caesar there. Then eventually the Temple of Vesta and the House of the Vestals – this monopteron had enshrined the »holy fire« in Ancient Roman times under conservatorship of the Vestal priestesses. The virgins, who were chosen for the duty of the holy fire, came from the noblest families in Rome. They were admitted as pre-teens and had to stay for thirty years; if they were to breach the rule of chastity they were buried alive in a dungeon. The things you do for tradition!
When I reached the eastern part of the forum after a while, I decided to rest right below the Arch of Titus. In the background the giant silhouette of the Collosseum towered like the just landed spaceship of an alien authority. The sky above the site was still sapphire-blue, and the big old moon still catered for a pale, yeah creepy shine. She was the only one who had seen everything in its whole splendor and glory. The crickets by now were in a real singing frenzy, and here and there a firefly sent mysterious signals. The ghosts were still on the road, they were everywhere, but soon the sun would rise and ban them back to their interstation.