Absolom Rex

By K.L. Coones

Absolom Rex is a unique work in the world of the horror genre. When most books depend on the shock value of a beheading or use of insanity as a primary character trait, Absolom Rex, draws inspiration from the roots of the genre, where the environment sets the mood of a story, dialogue drives the characters and their development forward, and proper description puts the reader into the scene for maximum emotional impact.

Absolom Rex also draws inspiration from actual historical accounts, providing a believable setting for otherwise supernatural occurrences and characters. What makes Absolom Rex truly unique is the subtle warping of historical fact into riveting and entertaining fiction.

Absolom Rex will entrance and entertain both history buff and casual reader alike.

• Language: English
• Publisher: K.L. Coones
• Release date: Nov 30, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452380056

K.L. Coones

"Horror used to terrify me. Some of that Asian stuff still does. I’ll never watch The Ring again..."Ever the non conformist...his first book, Absolom Rex, he decided to publish as an e-book and see if he could market it himself. So on top of being a writer, he is also an entrepreneur and marketing professional. It makes for a confusing description when people ask him what he does. In addition to his horror novels, K.L. also writes the Darkwater Adventures Guild series for young readers.Some of his favorite authors from growing up are John Bellairs, Mark Twain, Washington Irving and R.A. Salvatore."The first book I ever read cover to cover was Spell of the Sorcerers Skull by John Bellairs in JR High."From a small Texas town, K.L. spent some time living in Los Angeles. His welcome, a white knuckle 19 hour ride through deserted deserts and twisting mountain roads ending in a 4 am slash and burn through traffic on the 10 with cars everywhere.While in L.A. he braved the Devil’s Punchbowl with stalwarts mates, drove out to the middle of nowhere to watch the stars fall from the sky, relearned to drive stick (yeah, in the middle of L.A., so now you know he is insane...) and resumed training in the martial arts. A surfer, he has felt the zen that comes from hanging ten all day and he has played the part of the pesky reporter when he wrote for a local Halloween haunt blog called, CreepyLA.com. He currently contributes short stories for Darkmediacity.com's #Fridayfrights and flashfriday.org's #fridayflash."I really missed the old gothic story telling and I want to bring it back. I would describe my writing style as a cross between Mark Twain and Edgar Allen Poe..."He has since moved back to Texas with his dog Sid (at least for the time being). He’s an 80's movie and music lover and the thing that he likes most about a woman is her voice... When not banging away on a keyboard he’s scheming of ways to get himself to a new campsite for the weekend, hiking with friends and his dog, contributing to darkmediacity.com,or getting thrown around in a dojo by people in black suits.Oh, and a large telescope just arrived in the mail, bigger is better...

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Absolom Rex

By

K.L. Coones

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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Published By

K.L. Coones on Smashwords

Absolom Rex

Copyright© 2010 by K.L. Coones

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

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To all those who have been part of my life

As it is through them that we each achieve immortality…

Absolom Rex

Did you know Jewish Law requires what they call ‘circumcision’ of all male children?  The Roman didn’t turn to look at his wife as she reclined on the small lectus, perusing a long velum scroll.  She continued to explain the procedure of removing the foreskin of the male child’s sexual organ to him.  She enjoyed reading scrolls from popular historians, thinking she could gain insight into the inner thoughts of personalities such as Tacitus or the late Julius Caesar, Augustus Caesar, or Marcus Antonius.  He was hardly listening.  His attention was focused predominantly toward the shore as their ship rapidly drew nearer.  He grimaced sourly, not only because spray from the prow splashed up and stung his eyes, but also because his stomach clinched at the thought of being assigned as Prefect to Judea, a backwater of Roman provinces.  He looked up at the burning sun hanging motionless in the cloudless sky and scowled.

Of all the places to be sent.

If there were something he hated most in the world, it was heat, and in this new land it was unrelenting.  Unavoidable.  He closed his eyes, longing for the cool breezes that would drift in from the sea to comfort him at his home in Pompeii.

The smooth touch of his wife’s hand on his arm roused him from his musings.

   What are you thinking, Pontius?  He considered the question.

I do not want us to be here, Claudia.  He ran his hand through his wife’s windblown red hair.  Although it was crusted by sea salt dried by the sun, it shimmered in the bright day like flaxen threads of copper.

But we are here my husband; we cannot deny the Emperor and his divine will.  If Caesar commands us, we must obey.  We have no choice in the matter.  Pontius nodded and moved to join his wife upon the lectus out of the burning sun.  Pouring a small cup of wine, he nodded in resignation to the truth of Claudia’s reasoning, but did not drink.  Still agitated, he rose and trudged back to the prow of the ship.  The boat skimmed into the immense harbor between two grand marble columns that soared above the water line to a height of forty feet.  A gigantic stone breakwater nearly a mile in radius formed the harbor itself, easily accommodating ships far larger than his small transport ship.  He had to admit that the construction of such an immense and sophisticated piece of maritime engineering was quite impressive, even to a well-traveled aristocrat such as he.

The deck of the boat became a frenzy of activity as the sailors began preparations for docking.  Within ten minutes the ship bumped against the pier as it slipped into the dock.  A column of Roman soldiers stood upon the pier, their helmets gleaming dully in the unrelenting sun.  A centurion with a red crested galea stepped forward as the gangplank bounced its arrival on the pier.  He saluted in typical Roman military fashion, with the balled fist of his left hand held to his chest, when he saw Pontius disembark.  I am Lucius Evodius Anticus, commander of the Roman garrison of Ceasarea.  On behalf of the garrison, I welcome you to Judea, Governor, announced the soldier.

Observing him from the superior height of the ship, Pontius noted the commander had an air of nobility, quite apart from the rough and tumble appearance of his men.  Most of them appeared to have been culled from Asiatic provinces far to the north and west, their complexions more in keeping with indigenous people than with the fairer skinned populace of Rome.  The commander, though tanned by the sun, was obviously Roman.

Your orders, Governor? asked Anticus.

This one is all about business.  Good!  I will need a man like that if this place is to be brought to heel.  Pontius, with little thought of ceremony, descended the gangplank for a better look at the commander.  Anticus removed his helmet at the Governor’s approach and made a slight bow.  His hair was cropped short in the typical manner of a Roman soldier and his eyes gleamed with intelligence.  The Governor noted that he, too, was being scrutinized, but he paid it little mind.  The attempt to discern a new associates manner was common among those in military or political practice.  Anticus may once have been a handsome man, but after years in the sun and arid climate of Judea, his skin had weathered to a leathery texture and his hair had been bleached of all natural color.  Pontius gave a slight nod and raised his hand as a signal for his wife to join him.

Commander, this is my wife, Claudia, the soldier made a polite bow towards her then returned his attention to the Governor.  Have you transport for us?

Yes, Governor.  Anticus signaled and a two-horse chariot rolled to the end of the pier.  Please do me the honor of taking my chariot.  Pontius nodded his acceptance to his garrison commander then led his wife to the end of the pier.  Several slaves in short Roman tunics passed, heading for the boat, but the Governor took no notice of them.  He and his wife climbed aboard the chariot as the column of soldiers, led by Anticus, lined up behind them.  A sharp crack of the whip by the chariot’s driver sounded and the column moved away from the waterfront, quickly turning right and heading into the heart of the harbor city and home of Rome’s administrative power in the province of Judea.

Pontius peered through the swirling dust kicked up by the horses at the greatest seaport of the eastern Mediterranean world and scoffed.  Though a few large marble structures sporadically dotted the landscape, most of his view was filled with the sun baked homes and shops of wood or the even more repulsive mud brick.  There was not a stone upon the road larger than a pebble.  Whereas in Rome the plazas and buildings were decorated with grand statues and fountains to commemorate the great Romans of the past, Caesarea offered only stunted palm-like trees, meager fountains, and minuscule statues of questionable workmanship.  This truly was a place of exile, thought Pontius ruefully.

People lined the streets ahead of the column as it made its way further into the heart of the city.  Darkly tanned by the sun, most of them had covered heads and clothes almost as colorless as the dust that twisted around him.  The people clapped in honor of his arrival, but he could hardly see due to the cloud of dust kicked up by the horses.  Inhaling it with every breath, it was all he could do to keep from coughing.  He motioned for the driver to quicken his pace in hopes that the wind would blow away the choking dust.  The chariot sped off, quickly leaving the marching soldiers behind.  Several minutes passed and he began to notice they were entering a more Roman part of the city.  The streets were paved with what looked to be limestone and as a result, the air cleared and the clatter of the horses’ hooves on the pavement stones offered him the comfort of a familiar sound.  The land rose as they drove inland from the beach, and the dust was replaced by the smell of brine from the ocean nearby.  The buildings here were larger, and the spacing between them grew, allowing breezes from the ocean to creep their way into the city.  The people, too, became more Roman in their appearance.  Again, he saw the familiar sight of white togas hemmed in red and blue.  The chariot finally rolled to a halt in front of the Roman Praetorium of Caesarea where many of the local officials with whom the Governor would work during his administrative duties awaited his arrival.  Several limestone steps led up to the columned entryway alternately festooned with marble statues of Roman gods or past prefects.

Have Anticus see me as soon as he arrives, Pontius instructed the driver.

He then assisted his wife from the chariot, and together they made their way up the steps toward the entry and into the villa area.  As he passed, several of the officials tried to get his attention, but Pontius was in no mood to banter about their personal agendas at the moment.  He stayed them with an outstretched hand.

At least this looks somewhat Roman.  A small fountain of satyrs dancing around bare breasted images of four women decorated a center square that was open to the sky.  Each held an amphora that perpetually poured out crystal clear water.  Marble benches situated under archways dotted the perimeter of the villa, and two large bronze doors with images of the god Jupiter in high relief, holding a scale in one hand and a javelin in the other, awaited them on the opposite side of the enclosure.  On each side was another garrison soldier holding a shield and pelum; they saluted as the governor approached and pulled open the doors to the interior for them to enter.

The interior was as immaculately kept as the outer villa; he would have to commend Anticus for his thorough housekeeping of the headquarters when he arrived.  The large waiting room was decorated with lush green plants that stood near large open archways.  The sun spilled through the arches and danced on bronze and silver plates and crests hung upon the wall.  A large checkered mosaic adorned the shining marble floor, and ceiling length tapestries hung behind saluting Roman soldiers at regular intervals around the room.

What do you think, my husband? asked Claudia.  She was smiling widely while she examined one of the many tapestries.  She turned to Pontius, who had yet to answer.

It is acceptable, stated Pontius.  Not as comfortable as our home in Pompeii, but then it does double as a barracks.

And the city! she said excitedly.   Have you ever seen such interesting looking people?  Tall and dark, with rugged clothing…what’s wrong?

Pontius scowled as he reflected on the ride from the dock into the interior of the city.  The dust, the squalor, the heat!  It was enough to darken his mood again instantly.

All I saw was the dust of ruins and the uncivilized populace of a remote nowhere, he replied sourly.  He turned and walked to an archway that looked back across the sea, back to Rome.  Claudia slipped her hand through his arm and rested her head on his shoulder in an effort to comfort him.  He could not help but accept the gesture, slipping his arm around her narrow waist and drawing her close to him.  Pontius smelled her coppery hair, still bearing the salt of the sea as it mixed with the perfume of flowers and sweet oils.  It was a pleasant fragrance.

Come, he said at last.  Let us see to our belongings.  I must meet with Anticus as soon as he gets here.  She nodded sullenly, knowing that this rare moment between them was again lost to the responsibilities of life.  After one last longing look back across the water, Pontius led his wife through the anteroom door and into the living quarters, leaving only wind from the sea behind them.

* * * *

You wished to see me, Governor? asked the centurion.  Pontius looked up from a velum scroll.

Yes, Anticus, please sit.  The soldier took a seat on a small bench opposite the Governor’s desk.  Pontius snapped his fingers, and a small boy came from an alcove to pour wine in two silver cups.

I would like to congratulate you on the upkeep of the administrative building, stated Pontius after taking the cup of wine.  He dismissed the boy after he finished serving them both.  Anticus nodded his appreciation but made no further reply.  Pontius could see that, to the soldier, he had done nothing beyond his normal duties.  How long have you been in Judea?

Since birth, Governor.  Pontius raised an eyebrow in surprise.  Seeing his confusion, the centurion elaborated.  My mother and father moved here from Sicily along with his merchant business.  When I was sixteen their ship went down off the coast of Cyprus during a merchant trip there, caught in a storm.  They had left me in charge of the household.  Pontius nodded at the common practice of leaving a male child of that age in charge of running household affairs in the parents’ absence.

I wasn’t interested in the merchant trade so I sold my father’s assets and went to Rome.  After my initial training, I was reassigned here to assist the Governor of Judea with my knowledge of the culture and people, finished Anticus.

What did you think of Rome?

I would enjoy visiting again, replied the centurion.  But this is my home.  I know that now.

You don’t consider yourself a Roman? inquired Pontius.  He could almost see the wheels turning in Anticus’ mind, trying to grapple with the true intent of such a question.

By all means, I am Roman, replied Anticus with a smile, and then added, whose home happens to be Judea.  After a moment the Governor smiled as well; he didn’t need to worry about loyalties with this soldier.

Very well, on to business.  As you know, I will travel to Jerusalem within the week to meet with the city’s Jewish elders.  Pontius did not consider the elders of the Jewish nation any authority at all, and what authority they had, came from Rome itself.  I want you to prepare the garrison here to accompany me; you will be my adjutant.  Pontius looked up momentarily in order to receive a nod from Anticus, but he received something far different.  You look as if you wish to say something?  Do you not wish to go? he questioned.  Pontius used a tone that usually made lesser men squirm in their seats.  Anticus, however, simply sat as if thinking the answer through before speaking, a prudent habit Pontius observed.

No Governor, I will be happy to accompany you.  However, as your adjutant, I feel it is my duty to inform you that the garrison here would not be a good choice for a posting in Jerusalem.

Why would your men be insufficient for the job? asked the Governor before Anticus could continue.

If the garrison here in Caesarea were to accompany you, then so must their standards.  Standards that bear the image of the Emperor, stated the soldier.  Pontius was at a loss.  Perhaps he had been hasty in assessing the loyalties of the soldier?

Why should that be a dilemma? he inquired with astonishment.  The standards of Caesar were a badge of honor for any garrison or legion baring them before it.  Such standards could be found throughout the empire, and to his knowledge, caused no trouble with the local populaces.

The Jewish Law prohibits the presence of idols of any sort within the city of Jerusalem.  The standards proclaim Caesar as divi Augusti and pontifex maximus.  The Emperor’s status as a living god is offensive to Jewish Law which prohibits them from recognizing any divinity other than their own God, referred to as Yahweh, finished the soldier.  Pontius was dumbfounded.  For a subject people not to accept the total authority of the Emperor was unheard of, yet here it was, staring him in the face as boldly as a Carthaginian on his elephant, and he was going to have to deal with it.

And yet they no doubt use money with portraits of the Emperor to fill the coffers of their temple, he speculated tersely.  What would you suggest then?

Send another garrison, or use the one already stationed within the city.  Pontius rubbed his hand over his balding head and sighed heavily.  He had heard stories that the Judean province could be difficult.

Roman authority will not be dictated to by subject peoples, he said, standing up.  He raised his hand quickly to stay any objection.  I am not unreasonable, however unreasonable our subjects may be.  Send the garrison, but do so that they will arrive in the city at night.  Have them post their standards only in the Praetorium.  Keeping them out of sight should be reasonable enough to stay any objections.  Pontius’ tone dictated any further attempts at dissuasion would be futile.  Anticus quickly stood, and with a sharp bow, donned his helmet and exited the room with a billow of his short cloak.  With another heavy sigh, Pontius rolled up the velum and replaced it in its metal casing, then walked to the archway window and again looked out upon the sea. As it did every day, the disk of the sun began to dip below the water and be consumed.  He was dreaming of his home in Pompeii when he became aware of a presence in the room with him.  A faint scuff on the marble floor and the gentle swish of cloth as it whispered through the air broke the silence.  He whirled on the approaching interloper only to see his wife Claudia stumble back a few steps with a small cry.

Oh Pontius, you frightened me! she stammered, trying to steady herself with a hand on his desk.  She patted her breast with the other in a very womanly fashion he found not only amusing but also endearing.  She had taken a bath in the time since their arrival and her long amber locks fell in cascading curls upon her shoulders.  The last rays of the setting sun lit little fires within the strands, only to shimmer and fade and be followed by a new miniature blaze as she moved.

I’m sorry my dear.  I thought you were yet another city official come to assail me with congratulations or requests, he apologized.  He raised his hand to take hers as she recovered enough from her shock to draw near.  He guided her slowly to the archway where he stood just as the last faint glows