She loved to ride horses. She had told him that as a child, her father took her riding at a relative’s stable, and since then, hardly at all. So Valerius made an arrangement.
Rufus saw him as he left his chamber. Valerius said, “I have a meeting. It’s personal.”
“But your guards – ”
“Forget about them. Just this time. Don’t worry, and, Rufus, just forget you saw me go out.”
At the garrison’s stable, he led his horse out of its stall and also selected a gentle yet spirited horse for Samara. He donned his centurion’s armor, lowered his faceplate, and rode out of the city through back alleys, leading the other horse behind him.
Arriving at a small olive grove near the river Jordan, he dismounted, tied the reins of both horses to a tree branch, and waited, wondering if were a fool for being here. Why should I even think about getting involved with a woman in Judea? Is not one ex-wife enough women in my life?
Watching the palms across the river sway in the dusty wind, he tried to recall the details of Samara’s face. He had the feeling that he had known Samara long before their meeting in Jerusalem. Where could it have been? Did he know her in another lifetime?
As a child, he felt he lived before and would live again. He still felt this way when things he had never seen before seemed familiar. He felt it with people for whom he felt an unaccountable friendship, like Flavius and Rufus.
As for Marcus, he and his brother came from the same womb, and Valerius always assumed that they shared a past extending back before that womb.
Yet his feelings about it, he told himself, didn’t make it true. Some of his Roman tutors believed in reincarnation, others not. He heard versions of the belief from Arabs and Egyptians and Persians – and when he lived in Alexandria, from the traveling teachers from India and China.
Remembering Alexandra and the good times he had there always made him smile. He loved that city. It teemed with Indians and Asians and was more cosmopolitan than even Rome.
He recalled having asked a young merchant from India: “If I’ve lived before, why don’t I remember it?”
The man had laughed and replied: “Your last life was the infancy of this one. So tell me, how much do you remember from your infancy this time around?”
Soon an enclosed chariot arrived at the grove, and Samara emerged. When the chariot rolled away, she stood expectantly, opening her arms to him. He held back for a moment, then embraced her for the first time.
It was strange for him to feel that his life was just beginning.
It was a full, strenuous, joyous day on horseback, sauntering, strolling, galloping. Samara spurred Valerius into racing with her, and the two of them pushed their horses hard into a free gallop, neck to neck, then splashed into the shallows of the river. Valerius had never laughed so long and hard since his boyhood.
The hills were turning a watermelon color as the sun fell lower in the sky. Under the trees on an outcropping overlooking the Jordan, Samara and Valerius sat together on a blanket, horses tethered nearby.
He said, “We can ride together back to the outskirts of the city. A carriage shall be waiting for us there. The driver can be trusted not to talk about our meeting. Also, Flavius will be there to take the horses back to the garrison.”
She looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry to create such trouble for you.”
“It’s no trouble. It’s important to me that you feel safe.”
As it grew darker, they could see the lamplights of the city igniting in the distance – hundreds, then thousands of flickering glows. He took her hand.
Samara said softly: “Each of us has a light inside. Our world is like a darkened city. People can see where they are going only because of the light inside them and the light inside others.”
Valerius asked: "Does a Hebrew believe that this light is from the Lord?”
“I don’t know what every Hebrew believes. I myself feel that the inner light is from the Lord, and that it passes on from life to life, and that we are all being prepared for the life of the world to come.”
“When is that life going to be, Samara? Are we going to see that life together?”
“Have we seen other lifetimes together?” The wind rustled in the olive trees.
“Do you really believe we live life after life?” he asked.
“Yes. It seems true to me.”
“Your Josephus wrote about that. He was your greatest historian.”
“You’ve read Josephus?”
“Some of him.”
“You call him our greatest historian? What arrogance! You say that because he worked for Rome. He had the nerve to write that the Lord was on Rome’s side. Imagine! Then you gave him a villa outside your capitol. Our greatest historian indeed.”
“I only meant that he was well known. The only Hebrew historian to become well known.”
“Oh, really? What about our scripture? Books of history with everything in them. Humanity and the Divine.”
“Your holy scripture. Yes, I know that those books include history. Yet do they not include legends?”
“You only call a story a legend when you don’t understand it.”
What could he say to shift her scornful mood? “You know the Greek Plutarch, who wrote of the vices and virtues of the great?”
“I’ve heard his name.”
“In Rome Plutarch taught Maximus, who became my teacher. Maximus, in turn, taught me and my brother Marcus about lives past and future.”
To his relief, her anger had passed like a sudden storm, and she said, “King David was said to be the reincarnation of Adam himself.”
“Yes, and your King Solomon stated that he himself was alive through the ages from the beginning of time.”
She looked into his eyes, and he saw the tender concern in them as she asked, “Your brother who is to become Emperor – have you talked with him about my people?”
He warmed at the thought of Marcus, troubled though he was by their relationship. “Marcus and I grew up together. Every day we would talk about things that matter. In recent years, I’ve brought the Hebrew situation up to him many times, yet it’s been hard to get him to talk about anything except our warring with the barbarians and the Parthians.”
Samara smiled. “I never thought I’d meet a Roman who took the time to ponder such things as reincarnation.”
“I knew when I saw you in the crowd, Samara, that I had seen you before, and that I’ve been with you many times.”
“Oh, really?” she laughed. “When was the last time?”
“Probably sometime in Rome. I’ve been a Roman forever.”
“It couldn’t have been me. You wouldn’t catch me in Rome.”
“I’d catch you anywhere.”
Valerius, you often seem sad. Tell me, what do you feel about pleasure and enjoyment?”
At the thought, he felt tightness like a band across his chest. “I’ve known many in the Empire who live only for pleasure. I’m not like them.”
“Well, perhaps you ought to be a little more like them. People are made to be happy.”
He relaxed a little. “Are you happy, Samara?”
“Somewhat. When I’m sad, I try to make myself happy. Sometimes I dance in front of my mirror.”
“Alone? You dance just for yourself?”
“You should try it sometimes. Just dance. For no reason. It saves me from my bitter thoughts.”
The tension left Valerius’ chest altogether. “Samara, I’ve looked for so long for someone to talk with about these things.”
“About dancing?”
“No. I mean, yes. You know what I mean.”
“So, tell me. When do you think you’ve known me before? And don’t say Rome this time.”
“I think it was in an Eden, a golden age.”
“Our books say that in the Garden of Eden, where the Tree of Life grew, man and woman walked with the Lord and the angels.”
“I once read a Chinese sage who said that in the first age on earth, people could enter fire and not get burned.”
“Valerius, tell me of a sage that talks of the beauty of women. Do you know any?”
“Yes. Yours. I mean, Solomon.”
“And what did he say?”
Valerius was silent, blushing. He was doubly embarrassed. For one thing, Solomon’s song was so erotic, and for another, the midwives had called Valerius “the second Solomon.” He hoped Samara hadn’t heard about that.
“Never mind,” she said, to his relief. She pressed herself closer to his side. “I believe I knew you more than a thousand years ago in Israel,” she declared.
“Really? Who was I?”
“The one you just named – Solomon.”
Valerius was flustered. “But he had a whole flock of wives.”
“Well, he may not have been wise in everything. Yet he was wise in loving me.”
“And if I were Solomon, then you were – ?”
“I imagine that I was the great queen of Africa. The beautiful Sheba.”
“So you think I was a Hebrew king in that lifetime?”
“The most intelligent.”
“And you an African?”
“The most beautiful.”
“Why would a great king come back as someone like me, someone lesser?”
“To stay with me this time.”
He was silent for a long moment. He dreaded telling her what was on his mind.
“Samara, I may soon be ordered to the German front.”
“When?”
“In a few weeks. I don’t know.”
She paused. “And you wish to go?”
He laughed. “My wishes have nothing to do with it. It’s my brother’s doing. He outranks me, and he can order me about as he pleases. I still have hopes I may convince him to be sensible and tell the Emperor to make me Prefect of Rome, yet I’ve no idea what he’s going to decide. ”
She stared at him. “You too.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re just like me. You’re being destroyed by those who are supposed to love you. We both need rescuing from our families.”
“Samara, let me tell you how I lost my chance to be Emperor.”