A Villa Far From Rome

by Sheila Finch

  “Please, Tiberius – husband. The old house is so small and uncomfortable – and cold.”

  He looked at her and saw that she was trembling. He remembered how sick she’d been, how close to the death that had claimed so many others. Even now, she was a shadow of the healthy girl he’d been forced to take as wife. He could see her sharp collar-bones, her stick-thin wrists, her ivory pallor.

  But she hadn’t thought it necessary to consult him.

  Of course, he would have said no. There was nothing wrong with the house the way it was. And to build a villa with the emperor’s money! That was a gift that would come with an enormous debt attached. Why was Nero doing this? If Antonia told the truth – and whatever her faults, he hadn’t found her untruthful – all she’d asked for was an improvement to the hypocaust. How did that small request, however unwise, grow into a copy of Nero’s greatest villa? At the very least, he was now deeply in the emperor’s debt.

  Was there to be no end to the indignities Nero would heap on him? Apparently not for as long as Amminus was his hostage.

  “I’ll send Delamira with hot water for you to wash,” she said hesitantly.

  The old owl that lived in his oak trees uttered its first soft evening call. He looked up at the trees. The bird – or its parents – had been here as long as this house, at least since his father’s time. He strode away from Antonia and the architect, afraid he wouldn’t be able to hold his temper much longer.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Tiberius hadn’t bothered to take supper with her and their guests last night. Antonia had made excuses, weak ones she knew the Romans didn’t believe. It had been just as well. Septimus Severus had spent much of the meal boasting of the beauty of his design for the Golden House in Rome, and how he planned to reproduce it here in this odd little corner of Britannia. That would never have pleased her husband, and she had no doubt he would have been outspoken in his displeasure. Aron, the architect’s young assistant, said very little, but from time to time she’d caught his deep-set eyes watching her.

  It was raining again this morning, as she made her way to the kitchen to supervise the country people who every day brought eggs and milk, fresh fish and flour from the mill, and vegetables that the house’s own garden didn’t supply. She’d listen to Old Nev’s plans for the dishes to be served – translated from the Old Tongue into passable Latin by one of the younger servants – and make changes as she thought appropriate given the Roman guests.

  In spite of the rain, Niko had set off again for Noviomagus. He enjoyed his little ventures into town on small errands; often he’d be gone all night. At times like this, her mind flew back to the villa in Pyrgi, and the sound of her mother’s voice in the kitchen instructing the slaves. In memory, the skies were always blue over Tuscany, the weather warm, the breezes scented with wildflowers, inviting the family to dine outdoors on the shaded terrace or under the grape arbors. Sharp pain stabbed her heart at the memories. Would she ever see them again?

  She couldn’t do much about Britannia’s weather, but the architect could build some kind of bower outside where she could enjoy the few pleasant summer days this climate afforded.

  “Are you not happy here?”

  Startled, she turned in the kitchen doorway to see Severus’s assistant emerging from the little room he’d shared with unused storage bins and crockery, his arms full of building plans.

  “Why would you question me?”

  He was a strange one, only a year or two older than she, too tall to be elegant, and thin as a willow sapling. The deep-set eyes and hooked nose were not attractive. And he didn’t dress like one who’d spent his life in Rome – at least, not if the fashions hadn’t changed considerably from what she remembered. The sleeveless tunic he wore over some kind of shirt hung loosely from his bony shoulders. The sandals laced up his calves in a most un-Roman way.

  “I don’t mean to pry,” he said. “Please, accept my apology. I couldn’t help noticing a certain sadness in your expression.”

  “Are you some kind of magician, sir, that you read my thoughts?”

  He stared at the flagstones of the kitchen floor without answering.

  She took pity on him. “I admit I was indulging in a moment of homesickness, so you were right.”

  He brightened at that, light coming into the dark eyes. “Where’s home?”

  “A little town on the Tuscan coast, Pyrgi. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?’

  He shook his head, and his body wobbled as he did, so that she was hard put to hide a smile. How awkward he was! But that awkwardness was somehow endearing.

  “Sadly, no. I was born in Palestine, but I was educated in Alexandria. My knowledge of Rome is limited to the building sites where Severus attempted to teach me to put stones on top of stones without them falling down – my Alexandrian education being rich in architectural theory rather than practice.”

  “I imagine you are a very apt pupil.”

  “And you are a kind lady.”

  They gazed at each other for a moment. “Are you hungry?”

  “I’m not accustomed to eating much in the morning –”

  “That might do for Rome, but here we need to prepare ourselves for a long cold day. And I’m under orders to eat heartily and frequently to recover my health.”

  She held the door open and they went into the small kitchen. Old Nev put platters of bread and cheese on the table, and poured milk.

  “Tell me about the villa you will be building for me here. I hardly had time to absorb all the wonders of the Golden House. I can hardly imagine all that glory here!”

  Aron set down his cup. He studied her face for a moment. “You do know why the emperor sent Septimus here?”

  “Of course! I pleaded for a little money to repair the hypocaust, but the emperor is a generous man –”

  Lucia chose that moment to tumble into the kitchen, wet hair streaming wildly over her shoulders, her cheeks rosy. “Ma! That man’s banging down the walls of our house!”

  The child was far too young to understand such matters. “Please, Lucia. Remember what Niko teaches you about how to behave in front of guests.”

  Lucia stared at Aron. The young man lifted his hand in salute. She turned and ran out of the kitchen as ungracefully as she’d entered.

  “My daughter,” she said when the sound of the child’s passage died away.

  She was suddenly embarrassed. Did he suspect anything? Her cheeks grew warm. Certainly Roman society would’ve gossiped about the events of that terrible banquet, but they couldn’t know for sure. Would Aron guess why the emperor was giving her the gift of a grand villa?

  “A beautiful child,” he said, his expression unchanging.

  There was something on his mind, she could see the shadow of it in his eyes. But she guessed it had little to do with the child. “What is it?”

  “An emperor always has enemies – would-be assassins. This one has many. One day he might have to leave Rome before they kill him.”

  “But what has this to do with us, so far from Rome?”

  “Exactly. Caesar may need a refuge if that dire day comes, a place where his enemies won’t think of looking. Septimus is going to build it here for him.”

  Could that possibly be true? Would Nero some day need to hide here? “But why here, in such a faraway, primitive place? No one would choose to live here!”

  “You’ve answered your own question, I think,” he said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The builders started work on the part of the house where the room Niko used to tutor them was. They would have to move somewhere else, Niko said. But where? He went off to see what he could find, leaving them siting at the table, their lessons in Latin grammar open before them. She could hear the men outside, talking, banging things about, and the man Mater said was in charge yelling at everybody.

  “Catu,” Lucia said. “Let’s run away before Niko gets back.”

  “We shouldn’t do that,” the boy replied. “It�
��s not a good thing to do to Niko.”

  “But I don’t want to learn anything today.”

  “He was going to tell us about the great library in Egypt – and the lighthouse. I wanted to hear about the lighthouse.”

  Lucia pouted. Lighthouses weren’t interesting. “It’s too noisy in here.”

  “It’s noisy,” he agreed. “But where would we go?”

  She put a finger to her mouth and thought for a moment. She hadn’t thought about where because she hadn’t really expected him to agree. “Take me fishing?”

  He gave her an odd look. “I’d be beaten if I did that! The last time you went out on the water you almost drowned.”

  “We could take Beech. Beech wouldn’t let me drown.”

  Catuarus shook his head. “No.”

  Tears spilled out of her eyes. “I never get to play with anyone.”

  “You know that’s not true, Lucia. What about that Roman boy in Noviomagus?”

  “I haven’t seen him in months and months and months!” she protested. “Not since Ma got sick.”

  He made a face, his mouth all puckered up. She could tell he was starting to give in. “Please, Catu? Oh, please!”

  He made a big sigh. “I suppose we could walk a little way, down by the harbor.”

  “Yes!”

  “Just for a little while, mind.”

  “I want to see the dolphins again.”

  “I can’t promise that.”

  She slipped off the chair and headed for the door. The tablet with its grammar lessons fell on the floor behind her.

  “Hey – Wait!” He picked it up and replaced it on the table.

  She was halfway across the grass between the villa and the road to the harbor when he caught up with her. He grabbed her hand. Beech, who waited patiently under the apple trees for him to finish his lessons every morning, got up and joined them.

  The noise and confusion of the construction fell way behind them as they walked. The air was bright and warm and full of the perfume of flowering trees. Sparrows flew past, their beaks dangling worms for their nestlings. Thrushes sang in the hedgerows. Catuarus named them all for her. It was almost like having Niko with them.

  But after a while it grew tiresome.

  “Those are harebells over there, “Catu said, pointing.

  “We have bigger ones in Rome.”

  He stared at her. “You do not!”

  “Do too! Bigger and prettier. Blue ones and red ones and green ones –”

  “There aren’t any green flowers. You’re making it up.” He let go of her hand.

  A small rabbit darted away from their feet. The dog eyed it for a moment but didn’t give chase. A group of people on their way from the harbor to Noviomagus nodded at them. Their backs were bent under the weight of the sacks and boxes they were carrying. The day suddenly turned darker. None of it would be fun if Catu was angry with her.

  “I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice.

  He took her hand again and squeezed it.

  She felt so happy her chest was tight. To ease it, she pulled her hand out of Catu’s again and did a somersault on the grass.

  There was a small ship moored at the dock when they reached it, but no dolphins out to sea. They stopped to watch its cargo being unloaded.

  “Not as big as the boat we came on from Rome,” Lucia said.

  “Do you remember that?”

  “Course I do! Ma was sick then too, all the way across the sea. Do you remember that boat too, Catu?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Catu!” She gazed at him, astonished to see his grim face.

  “It’s not your fault. But that was the day my mother and father couldn’t be together any more. And we couldn’t live in our home.”

  “You said you liked living with your uncle,” she argued. “You said he knew a lot of really strange things – like magic.”

  “Druids don’t do magic!” he said scornfully. “You don’t know anything about it at all.”

  She didn’t understand why he was so upset with her. She hadn’t meant to make him angry. Why couldn’t Catu and his family live in the villa with Ma and Niko and Tiber? When it was bigger they would.

  “When I grow up,” she said, “it can be your home again. And Beech’s home too.”

  They walked past the dock across a rocky area to a small cove. The low tide had uncovered tide pools stretching out to deeper water. Several women and girls, skirts hitched up around their waists, knives in their hands, were bending over the pools. Further down, on a sandy strip, two women were digging with long forks.

  “Listen!” she said. “Catu, they’re singing!”

  “Why not? People do sing, you know.”

  “What’re they doing in the water?”

  “Collecting shellfish, mussels and cockles, and maybe finding oysters.”

  “What funny names!”

  “Well, they taste good.”

  “Can I do it too?”

  Without waiting for his permission, she scrambled over the rocks toward the tide pools. The dog bounded after her. A girl who looked about Catuarus’s age held out a hand to steady her as her sandals slipped on wet rock.

  “Show me how?” she begged. “I want to find mussels and cockles!”

  The girl raised her eyebrows and looked at Catuarus. He said something to her in his own language and the girl nodded. She gave Lucia a short, blunt-bladed knife and demonstrated how it was to be used to pry the shellfish off the rocks where they were stuck tight. It was hard work at first, but she got the way of it – you had to push the tip of the knife between the rock and the green grassy stuff the blue shells were sticking to and then wiggle it till they came free. The other women stopped working to watch her. Once the shell was free, the girl showed her how to make a fold in her tunic to be like a basket for carrying them. In a short time, she’d pried loose three mussels.

  “I’m going to ask Old Nev to cook them for you, Catu,” she said. “They can be your supper.”

  He laughed. “I’ll go hungry if that’s all I’m getting!”

  The Regni girl took the knife back and slit open the two halves of the mussel shell, showing her how small the fishy part inside really was. But what was more exciting than the fish – which smelled as fresh as the sea – was the beautiful pearly colors of the inside of its shell.

  “We’ll keep the ones you find,” Catuarus said. “I’ll make the shells into a necklace for you.”

  She went back to work determined to get enough shells to make a big necklace. As she worked at loosening the mussels from the rocks they clung to, he talked to the girl who’d shown her how to take them. From time to time he called Lucia’s attention to something he’d found in the tide pool – a tiny crab scuttling across the palm of his hand, a very small, spiral-shaped shell. Gulls flew over her, turning their heads down to watch what she did. Beech bounded in and out of the water barking in joy, splashing everybody. It was such fun!

  After a while, Catuarus said, “We should go now. Niko will be worried about us.”

  She started to protest that she wasn’t ready to go home, but her back was aching a little from bending over, and she was very hungry. She counted her treasures. “Unus. Duo. Tres. Quattuor. Quinque –”

  “Someday I’ll teach you to count in my language,” he promised.

  The sun was past its highest point in the sky as they walked back from the sea, the morning long gone. When they came in sight of the villa, they saw Niko and Tiber standing outside, waiting for them. She could tell from their faces they weren’t happy.

  “I’m in trouble now,” Catuarus said.

  “You mother has been very worried about you,” Niko said as they approached the men. “Whatever possessed you to run off like that without telling anyone?”

  “I am ashamed of you, my son, that you would endanger this child!” Tiber said.

  “Oh – But Catu didn’t! I wanted to go ....” She broke off, knowing they weren�
��t going to listen to her.

  Tiber gripped Catuarus by the shoulder and turned him away from the villa. “Home!”

  Niko took her by the hand, but she pulled away from him, spilling the mussel shells on the grass, and reached out to touch Catuarus.

  “Catu,” she said. “I’m going to marry you when I grow up! And nobody’s going to stop me.”

  Chin tilted skyward, she marched into the villa, Niko trailing behind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The noise the builders were making gave Antonia a headache. She lay on the couch in her room, a cold cloth on her head. The summer morning was warm, no hint of a breeze, the garden too full of dust and noise to be restful. Already, they’d pulled down a large section of the old house, leaving the family crowded into a small space. When Tiberius was home he complained it was a great inconvenience. Lucky for them both that he spent so much time in Noviomagus.

  The chaos and confusion prevented her from thinking straight this morning. She needed to think about what Aron had told her. The villa would be glorious once it was finished, especially since Nero wanted it to be a copy of his Golden House! It would be more than she could have dreamed of. But it wouldn’t be hers, if the emperor came to live in it. An emperor in exile was still powerful, and her wants and wishes wouldn’t count for very much if that happened. He’d find the villa not big enough for both of them and send her away.

  “Ma!” Lucia tugged on her arm.

  “Not now, Lucia..”

  “Ma, look what Gallus made for me.”

  Her daughter held up a carved wooden doll, the length of her fore-arm. It was crude, by the standards she’d known as a child, but the arms and legs had been pinned so they moved.

  “Very nice, but please –”

  “Can we make a tunic for her to wear?”

  Lucia’s face was shining with excitement. Such little things it took to make a child happy, she thought. “Tell Delamira to make one.”

  “I can’t find her.”