Sisiutil
All Leader Challenger
Chapter Twelve: The Merchant
Epilogue
Yukio was very quiet, her dark, almond-shaped eyes shimmering.
“They must be wrong,” she said.
“That’s what I thought,” Hanno replied, “the first time they told me. I still doubted it the second time. But by the third, I believed it. More than that, I’m starting to feel it.”
“We have to get you home,” she said firmly. “What do these English doctors know? Roman medicine is…”
“They know enough, my love,” Hanno replied. “Enough to tell me that I won’t live long enough to see the end of the trip.”
Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. Her face creased with sorrow, tears spilled from her eyes, and her head fell forward into her hands. As her slender shoulders shook, Hanno stepped forward and enclosed her in his arms.
“It isn’t fair,” she murmured between sobs. “It isn’t fair…”
“I know,” he whispered into her ear. “Perhaps… it’s because my work is done.”
She snuffled against his shoulder. “Do you remember… on the trip over here... you told me the only thing you were afraid of was losing me?” Hanno nodded. “You never asked me what my greatest fear was.” She paused a moment, then sobbed. “I’m facing it now,” she said, then burst into the most heart-wrenching wail of pure sorrow that Hanno had ever heard.
Strangely, he felt little grief or even fear regarding his impending death. What affected him most was this—the pain it was causing the person he loved most in the world.
“There there,” he cooed softly, stroking her long, dark hair. “You have nothing to be afraid of. You’ll be well taken care of. You’re rich beyond your wildest dreams…”
She leaned back and looked at him with astonishment, the golden skin of her face wet with tears.
“I never cared about the money,” she told him, shaking her head. “I never… I only cared about you…” More tears fell, and she pressed her head against his chest again.
And at that moment, for the first time, Hanno realized that he’d never cared about the money either. Money was transitory, always in motion, never in one place for very long, not if it was going to do anybody any good. No, he’d lived for the thrill of the deal, of working for that moment, for that look in the customer’s eyes, the slow inhalation, the gradual smile, the nod of the head that meant he’d done it yet again. He’d lived for that, and for one other thing, for the woman he now held in his arms.
Well, now he’d met a customer he couldn’t bargain with. A customer whose price was steeper than he’d anticipated. Finally, at long last, Hanno had met his match. He began to laugh softly.
“What could you possibly find funny at a moment like this?” Yukio asked him, staring up at him in astonishment.
“The only one who ever beat Hanno at the bargaining table,” he said grandiosely, “was death.” He looked at her smugly. “I told you I was a great merchant.”
He began to laugh, and a moment later, she joined him. Their fingers intertwined, and then he leaned down and kissed her, gently at first, then passionately.
“Enough tears,” he said. “I have some time yet. I want to see Britain. With you. I want to make love on England’s eastern shore while we watch the sun rise as if Rome herself sent it to us, like a cherished memento from home.”
“My husband,” Yukio said, stroking his face as a sad smile played upon her own. “Merchant, traveller, and poet.”
“You forgot my favourite title and accomplishment,” he chided her with a grin.
“What’s that?”
“Lover,” he whispered.
And he kissed her yet again, as though it was the last time he ever would.
Epilogue
Yukio was very quiet, her dark, almond-shaped eyes shimmering.
“They must be wrong,” she said.
“That’s what I thought,” Hanno replied, “the first time they told me. I still doubted it the second time. But by the third, I believed it. More than that, I’m starting to feel it.”
“We have to get you home,” she said firmly. “What do these English doctors know? Roman medicine is…”
“They know enough, my love,” Hanno replied. “Enough to tell me that I won’t live long enough to see the end of the trip.”
Finally, she couldn’t stand it any longer. Her face creased with sorrow, tears spilled from her eyes, and her head fell forward into her hands. As her slender shoulders shook, Hanno stepped forward and enclosed her in his arms.
“It isn’t fair,” she murmured between sobs. “It isn’t fair…”
“I know,” he whispered into her ear. “Perhaps… it’s because my work is done.”
She snuffled against his shoulder. “Do you remember… on the trip over here... you told me the only thing you were afraid of was losing me?” Hanno nodded. “You never asked me what my greatest fear was.” She paused a moment, then sobbed. “I’m facing it now,” she said, then burst into the most heart-wrenching wail of pure sorrow that Hanno had ever heard.
Strangely, he felt little grief or even fear regarding his impending death. What affected him most was this—the pain it was causing the person he loved most in the world.
“There there,” he cooed softly, stroking her long, dark hair. “You have nothing to be afraid of. You’ll be well taken care of. You’re rich beyond your wildest dreams…”
She leaned back and looked at him with astonishment, the golden skin of her face wet with tears.
“I never cared about the money,” she told him, shaking her head. “I never… I only cared about you…” More tears fell, and she pressed her head against his chest again.
And at that moment, for the first time, Hanno realized that he’d never cared about the money either. Money was transitory, always in motion, never in one place for very long, not if it was going to do anybody any good. No, he’d lived for the thrill of the deal, of working for that moment, for that look in the customer’s eyes, the slow inhalation, the gradual smile, the nod of the head that meant he’d done it yet again. He’d lived for that, and for one other thing, for the woman he now held in his arms.
Well, now he’d met a customer he couldn’t bargain with. A customer whose price was steeper than he’d anticipated. Finally, at long last, Hanno had met his match. He began to laugh softly.
“What could you possibly find funny at a moment like this?” Yukio asked him, staring up at him in astonishment.
“The only one who ever beat Hanno at the bargaining table,” he said grandiosely, “was death.” He looked at her smugly. “I told you I was a great merchant.”
He began to laugh, and a moment later, she joined him. Their fingers intertwined, and then he leaned down and kissed her, gently at first, then passionately.
“Enough tears,” he said. “I have some time yet. I want to see Britain. With you. I want to make love on England’s eastern shore while we watch the sun rise as if Rome herself sent it to us, like a cherished memento from home.”
“My husband,” Yukio said, stroking his face as a sad smile played upon her own. “Merchant, traveller, and poet.”
“You forgot my favourite title and accomplishment,” he chided her with a grin.
“What’s that?”
“Lover,” he whispered.
And he kissed her yet again, as though it was the last time he ever would.
