The Lucky Guy

        Shivering with cold people were entering the not big café hastily, brushing up their coats, wet with the slight snow. They were queuing in front of the bar, sitting at the tables, speaking on their mobiles or just watching through the big windows the cars on the busy parking lot and the wet black branches of the trees, lit sometimes for a while by a cursory accidentally omitted by the fog pale sunbeam. From the TV set hanging in the corner the top hits that had been broadcast constantly on the music channels were playing quietly. Tony looked at his watch. It was exactly 2 p.m. He drank up his cappuccino and rose up.

        “I am about to drop in later. If you aren’t here, see you at the office” – he said to his colleagues.
        “Why in a hurry?” – Maya was surprised.
        “I have a meeting.”
        “What a meeting at that muddy weather!” – Assen spread his arms on the backs of the adjacent chairs.
        Tony looked at them and said nothing.
        “Being willing to go out, it can be only a date with some chick” – his colleague grinned at him.
        “Who knows?” – Tony winked and put his leather jacket grand.
        “Well, well, well,” – Maya chuckled. – “You are revealed.”
        “He is an old dog.” – Assen grinned again. – “Who knows what he is doing during his lunch break while we are bibbing coffee and beer.”
        “Learn, dude, learn!” – Tony chuckled.
        “And you will leave us?” – Maya looked at him devilishly. – “Me, too?!”
        “A faith, baby, what shall we do?” – He put his smartphone in his pocket and pushed the door.
        The vapor of his mouth fused into the loose fog. He stopped for a while, inhaled the fresh air, raised his collar and started walking between the cars. He went out of the office parking, crossed the boulevard and turned down one of the alleys. He had ten minutes left and walked without any urge.
        Indeed, he had a date with a woman whom he had been in a relationship for more than a year but the things had not been in ride. She had started avoiding him. He wished he had been able to understand why but that was one of the questions which he knew was in vain. He had felt it from the beginning that they would reach that point sooner or later: she was married, had a child and though having felt lonely at home, they had made it clear from the very first time they would not pass certain borders. She was not about to divorce and he would not let it happen because he knew what a divorce could be nevertheless how much he wanted her to be together. He did not want to cause that to her.
        He was wandering how he had been soft on her like a schoolboy; he did not expect that he was able to feel such sensation at the age of thirty-eight, moreover that these feelings were not mutual. When – eight months since they met – he confessed it to her, she was definitive that he was a great person, that she liked him very much, that she wanted him, that she wanted to relive their nights over and over again but she was not able to reply his feelings. She and even he himself were surprised by his answer: that did not bother him. Tony just loved her and that was enough. He sometimes wandered and asked himself if he had not been going crazy but the situation was such and he did not ask questions.
        The slight wet snow kept flying around but there was no wind and he was not feeling the cold. His watch pointed 14:14 (fourteen past two pm). The coincidence surprised him but he was there on time. He turned the next alley and he spotted her car twenty meters down. He was pleased that he was about to see her, despite of the compulsive feeling that a not easy conversation was waiting for him. This morning, when he had called to hear from her, she sounded even more distant than any other time.
        “Hi!” – The man sat by her, slammed the door, bended and kissed her.
        He knew she adored his kisses as much as he adored hers.
        “You have not been in a mood those days?”
        He was watching her, studying her face and enjoying every single detail.
        “In contrary” – her voice was calm.
        “It is not evident” – he sat back on the seat. – “What’s the matter with you?”
        She stayed for a while gazing through the window.
        “You know it very well, Tony. I can’t be with you as often as you want it.”
        “But lately we have been dating once a month and only for a cup of coffee.”
        “It doesn’t come to this.” – She tossed her head. – “You have to search for other contacts. You need them. And you need them as well as sex. I won’t and I am not able to give it to you as often as you need it. There are awesome women – I am just not able to give you what you want.”
        “There are some, for sure, but I am not interested in them.”
        “Look for the woman who will take my place in your heart.”
        “You are an incredible person. You raised the bar too high.
        “Nonsense! I am just an average woman. You see me such as you want me.”
        “It is not so. I have been mainly among women both in the University and everywhere I have worked so far. I have been watching them and I am able to distinguish...”
        She was suspired and again started looking through the window. The man reached out and took her palm between his hands.
        “See, it happened so: I do love you and I can do nothing. You know it – I want nothing more but what we have had up to now.”
        She pulled her hand and put it on her lap.
        “I am sorry I cause it to you! I feel nothing, Tony! And you know it very well. Keep ahead because I’ll change nothing! You can’t stay at one place waiting for something that will never happen. What do you hope about?”
        “To hope? It is hard to explain. I will miss you... so much... but...” – the man looked at her thoughtfully. – “...usually when someone is fended off, he or she feels affected and comes to hate the other one. However, you either love or you don’t and to love only because you are loved, it is not real. That’s why I do not suffer: I do love you implicitly whatever you are about to decide or do. Surely, it sounds to you womanishly but it isn’t so. I can leave you and start a big deal of adventures: there are as many women as one could wish but I don’t want it. I am the one who has chosen to do it consciously.”
        It was silent. There were no passers-by; even the noise from the near boulevard did not reach them. The man took a breath.
        “And even if I go on, as you say it, it will be only a fuck because of the sports. Someday maybe I will meet another woman who will impress me but it will be neither soon nor will she shift you from my heart.”
        “Nobody can live alone and how the time flies. For sure, you’ll find the ideal woman for you; the one who will love you if you keep looking for her.”
        The man leaned back.
        “You are also right.”
        They stayed silent. The rare tiny snowflakes stayed on the sweaty glass, melted and slipped down leaving hardly noticeable transparent traces.
        “I have to go.” – said she. “Don’t call me anymore, please.”
        “I’d like to know what is going on with you; to know that you are fine, that everything is alright but... ok. You know you can always call me.”
        The man stroked her face, kissed her continuously and went out of the car. He was staying on the pavement until she left and started off to the office. He was calm. Her hazel eyes, her mischievous smile, her laughter, their conversations, their nights... he would miss her painfully but he was not sad. Contrariwise, he was grateful to the faith that he had met her and had the possibility to love a woman as her. “Be happy, girl!” – Tony smiled slightly and turned to the café.
        “Well done to you, dude! You are very fast?” – Assen was mocking at him.
        “I won’t hang about as you – an hour for a beer.”
        “Two, we won’t incur only with one.”
        “He is a veteran.” – Maya laughed and cladded herself because of the cold. – “But you avoid us too much because of secret dates.”
        “What am I supposed to avoid you for?”
        “I don’t know, maybe you don’t have to avoid us?” – She purred.
        “And maybe that’s me who decides.” – He interrupted her and kept going to the next entrance.
        “Let’s go up because it is a quarter past three.” – Assen said. – “I have so much work to do.”
        Tony stopped listening to him and looked at his watch. It was really a quarter past three (15:15) as he could see at the pale glimmer of the sun. He started laughing. He knew it that one way or another, everything would be alright. He kept feeling her perfume and the taste of her lips. He was sure she would remember him. He was a lucky guy.

~~~~~~~~~

Translated by: Vessislava Savova

Zama

Tullius heard the noise of the galloping hooves at the last moment and turned precisely when a horseman jumped out of the nearby dune. He was a Carthaginian. The rider stumbled but took out his sword and attacked the Roman immediately. Tullius jumped aside, cursed the loss of his horse, took out his spatha[1] and raised the oval shield. On foot, he had no big chances against his enemy. He had to pull him down of the saddle. At the next attack, Tullius went down the horse itself and hit its snout with the shield. The surprised animal jumped aside, harshly stood on his back legs and the Carthaginian crashed the ground in a cloud of ash sand. That was the perfect moment for the Roman but the smashing heat and his big tiredness said their word and he missed the trice to astound his enemy.

The horse had raced about twenty meters aside and then both of them were face to face. They were lurking each other behind the shields. The desert sun was heating the Roman’s helmet, his sandals were sinking into the soft sand, strong haze was blurring everything in front of his eyes, and some drops of sweat were pouring down his eyes. Tullius wiped them with a harsh movement and again held position.

Thoughts about that he would not be able to go back to the camp and worn his people were rolling into his head. And it was important! Hannibal had gotten reinforcement and his soldiery exceeded with about twenty thousand of people the Roman one. That fact, along with the war elephants he was about to use, gave him a big advantage.

He again remembered about the ridiculous accident that had left him without a horse: the animal had tripped over not a big sand pit and had broken its leg and there was more than a day of riding till the camp. He had to reach there by all means and to move faster. Tullius had given up the bigger part of his accoutrements and provisions but he advanced slowly. He had slipped the bellows of water over his shoulder and taken only the long sword and the big shield, provided for hits at the height of the saddle but they did not give him an advantage in the close handgrip. That would probably cost him his life but the thought he had fallen still at the first mission as a tracker was surging in his mind.

He was wondering what the Carthaginian was waiting for. He could overwhelm him with ease: the Roman was at the edge of his power, moving slowly and lamely. His enemy could see that but did not attack. Tullius gazed at him and noticed that his movements were also heavy. He made a step, a second one, rushed at him, their shields collided into each other with a muffled rumbling, the blades rang and the hit was weaned. A scuffled followed – the hits were running down but they did not cause damages. The thought that if he won, he would not only save his life but would gain a horse too gave some power to Tullius. However, his enemy did not give up although he was not able to prevail.

He did not know how much time had passed. Their battle had continued for a long time, with short pauses which both of them gifted to each other with no words to restore their power but that time they were at the edge. Tullius was leaning on his big shield more than wearing it. The Carthaginian in front of him was also staggering. They wore the swords down. The heat was unbearable. They were watching each other. The Roman made a few steps back, put the bellows cautiously and took a few sips of hot, insipid, rewarding water. The Carthaginian kept watching him without moving. “A cursed land! It was far much better in Carthage, nearby the sea!” – Tullius was thinking but the campaign had led them to the South, to the draught, to the desert where Zama – the last bigger city under Hannibal’s ruling – was.

Suddenly he flinched. The Carthaginian dragged his feet to the horse that was sniffing the sand and the dry weeds down-in-the-mouth, keeping an eye on him. He had to stop him, he was lost without the horse, he did not have to let him go. He raised his shield, clutched the handle of the sword and rushed forward cumbersomely when, in his surprise, the Carthaginian raised his arm and pointed at him with his finger. The Roman stopped in a wonder – his enemy made a gesture as if he was drinking and at the next moment patted the back of the horse twice.

He did not understand what he was supposed to do but the Carthaginian repeated the gestures. Tullius made a step ahead, looked at the horse more carefully and saw the empty bellows which was hanging down the saddle. Suddenly he realized the meaning – the Carthaginian could not survive without water but was decisive to defend the horse and Tullius was lost without a horse. He tottered. The heat was incinerating him. He was wondering what to do but nothing came into his mind. Obviously, their powers were equal and even if the fight continued it was not clear who would prevail. On the other hand, he had to reach the camp at any cost as well as the enemy his. He had no choice.

The Roman winked, approached carefully, raised his bellows and stretched his arm slowly. The dirty palm of the Carthaginian gripped the neck of the bellows, touched his sweat hand and Tullius loosened his fingers after a while of hesitation. The Carthaginian started pouring the contain in his throat devouringly holding the sword with his right hand and not losing sight of the Roman. When his enemy stopped drinking, Tullius sat up. He did not know what the other one was about to do. He squeezed the handle of the sword harder while their eyes kept gazing at each other but the Carthaginian gave the bellows back. The tiredness was on their faces, the blades in their hands were hanging down the ground. The stranger slowly put the sword in his scabbard without letting the handle down watching the movements of the Roman. Tullius also took his sword back and the Carthaginian nodded, patting the horse.

Both of them had been riding for hours. The Carthaginian was leading the animal and Tullius who had already known the locality well enough knew they were going to the plane where the both armies would go into a battle. The hours were going by. The horse was hardly crawling and the Roman had lost hope that he would reach on time to give his information although they had been riding all the day and night. They met the sunrise in that way – a weird view of a legionnaire in a cuirass and a desert dweller in leather armor, riding one behind another on a half-dead horse among the sandy desert.

At about noon a far noise that became stronger and stronger growing to quiet reverberation reached their ears and when they climbed up a big eminence, the rumble of the starting battle hit them. In the lowlands in front of them, the two armies advanced one against the other. Tullius was terrified. Aghast, he was looking at the chased into a trot dozens of martial elephants trained to cram, the bracelets with terrifying spikes on their feet, stepping against Scipio’s phalanx. He nearly cried when the centuries regrouped immediately forming corridors through which the monsters passed inflicting minimal damages. Some of the elephants had been slaughtered with the long pikes, others got frightened by the ensuing mess, rushed back and cannoned into Hannibal’s ranks. The cavalries mixed together on the far side, the first ranks clashed shields... he did not know what the outcome would be hoping his failure would not bring doom to his people. The stranger by his side was watching tensely the mess of people, horses, vexillum[2].

Tullius could not stay anymore; he had to be down. He moved and the both strangers looked at each other – the one of them in a metal helmet with red and black feathers and the other one in a weird leather headwear – tired, sweaty and dusty. They both could and had nothing to say to each other.

The Roman stretched his hand, the Carthaginian nodded as an answer and they separated. Under them, Rome and Carthage were holding the last battle near Zama.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translated by: Vessislava Savova.

[1] Spatha – long, Roman cavalry sword, longer than the infantry gladius.

[2] Vexillum – a military standard or flag carried by ancient Roman troops.