by Q V Hunter
I smiled and said nothing. If I missed the fresh fish and fruits, cheese and flatbreads of Numidia’s market towns basking in the dry clean air of my early childhood, I couldn’t explain those yearnings to a hothouse flower like Justina. I understood her affection. I’d grown to manhood in Roma. But a part of me burned with the pride of the provincial who loved both.
‘Is anyone waiting for you, Marcus?’
‘Not particularly.’ I would hasten to the Manlius townhouse to ask Verus for news of Kahina and Leo before reporting to Apodemius, but that wasn’t any of Justina’s business.
‘Where will you go this evening?’
‘I suppose I’ll go to my headquarters and bunk down in the schola barracks.’
‘Perhaps my father could offer you some supper and a mattress softer than some nasty army cot.’ She offered me a wide smile under those clear, watching eyes of hers.
‘I doubt your father will have time to even notice me in his joy and relief at your return.’
‘I’m not flirting with you, Agens. I was only being hospitable.’
‘I didn’t think you were, Lady Justina.’
‘My father may already have some highborn new suitor in mind. He’s very politically well-connected, you know, my father.’
‘I hope your next husband has eyes only for you.’
‘I don’t care what they’re saying now. Magnentius was not a tyrant or a bad man. He was a good man, but without much education. I hope my next husband at least has better taste in rings,’ she added. I glanced down through her carriage window in time to see her small hand remove the chain with its large vulgar gold circle that Magnentius had placed around her neck. She tucked it into her belt pouch of quilted rose linen.
‘He did what the gods told him,’ I said.
‘It was what he didn't do that made him kind, Marcus.’
‘Augusta?’
‘He never touched me, not once, except the night of our wedding when he held my hand to place that ring on my finger. It fell right off.’ She looked up at me through the carriage window.
‘You mean he never even caressed you? Or kissed you?’
‘I mean he never touched me in any way. No one can say now that I wouldn’t be a worthy bride for their eldest born son.’ She paused and leaned out a little into the sun. ‘Do you think he knew, somehow? Do you think he knew that I was never destined to be the mother of his children?’
‘Perhaps the oracle was right after all.’
‘Then do you think the rest of her prediction will come true? That I’ll have a son and build the future of the Empire with a new dynasty?’ She smiled up at me through the salmon silk that protected her pale skin from the slanting rays. ‘Do you think I have the gift of the seers? I certainly don’t want to end up like my mother-in-law.’
‘Whatever your dreams, I’m absolutely sure you won’t end up like that crazy bat.’ The bloodied body of Magnentius’ gaudy barbarian mother rose up in my imagination.
‘But she was right, wasn’t she? She told him not to press eastwards, but he did.’
We fell silent to the soft padding of my horse’s hooves and the rattle of her iron bounds wheels on the paving.
‘Whatever happened to that Claudia doll of yours?’ I asked.
‘I dedicated it to the Goddess of Fertility on the day of my marriage, of course. That’s the custom of all new brides.’ She shook her head at me in wonder. ‘Really, Marcus Numidianus, sometimes I wonder what kind of Roman family owned you!’
***
There was no one waiting to meet her.
We dallied for over two hours at the bustling gate. We ate lentils and honeyed bread. I tipped the tavern boys to check all the roads leading to where we sat and told them to keep an eye out for a man answering the description of her father or the Vettius carriage.
One by one, they all returned after an hour or two. One boy felt so sorry at Justina’s anxious face, he offered the tip back.
‘Shall I take you home myself?’ I offered at last.
‘Let’s wait until the sun goes down. I don’t want anyone to see me travel like this without a proper family escort. It would set tongues wagging.’ She pulled herself up straighter and for a minute, I wondered if she still saw herself as an empress.
We lingered at the tavern. I ordered yet more snacks to keep our claim to the discreet table in the corner. She didn’t touch them. Suddenly her face lit up with relief.
‘Cerealis!’
A striking young man pushed his way through the hubbub and embraced the girl even as she leapt into his arms.
‘Why have I been waiting here so long, Cousin?’
He lowered his eyes and shook his head, as if tossing her question away. ‘Your mother insisted we only leave the house after dusk, when we wouldn’t be seen.’
I sensed worse things than unpunctuality were on the tip of his tongue.
‘What nonsense! Why should we hang our heads in shame? Half of Roma supported Magnentius, and all of them bowed to him.’
‘The city is fickle, Justina. You’ve escaped with your beauty and virtue intact, but the Emperor’s forgiveness carries a price.’
She collapsed back on the bench and lifted her veil to reveal eyes sprouting with tears. ‘What happened?’
‘Your Father’s dead.’
Her hand shot to her lips to stifle a cry.
‘You see, Uncle Justus, the proud old fool had a dream, in which he saw himself drawing a robe of imperial purple right out of his side. You know your father. He looked down his nose on your husband, but dreamed of your imperial children, of you giving birth to a new—’
‘Surely they don’t execute people for dreams?’ Her features clouded over.
‘No, not for a dream itself, but for a dream that reaches the ears of Constantius’ aides. Remember, your father only married into the imperial family. Who was a mere governor to sire a line of gods?’
‘What happened to him? Did he kill himself?’
Cerealis shook his head, no, and pulled us closer so that no one would overhear him. ‘A week ago he was murdered, knifed in the street as he walked through the crowds to the public baths with his friends. There was nothing they could do to save him. The assassin got away.’
‘Who would—?’
‘It doesn’t matter who, Justina but the streets aren’t safe for us. And be careful to whom you entrust your dreams.’
She glanced at me in alarm as her cousin gathered her under the shelter of his cloak.
‘I’ll take her home now, Agens. Thank you.’
The sad young man tried to tip me for my task, but I laid his palm aside and merely bowed. I was glad to finally hand Justina over to someone who would protect the girl rather than exploit her.
She looked back at me just one more time. I gave her a broad smile of reassurance. Her dreams were safe with me.
Chapter 23, The Bulla’s Secret
—The Manlius Townhouse, Roma—
The house stood, derelict and overgrown, like a dowager who still puts on her rouge but forgets to pin up her hair. Lady Laetitia would never have left all these dead fig leaves clogging access to the gate. I knocked and no one answered. I knocked again and then I pounded and finally shouted for someone to answer the gate.
The bolt slid back at last. A scrawny young slave peeked out at me with two great fearful eyes. He sighed with relief when he saw it was only the freedman Marcus Numidianus. I was astonished to see he wielded a plumbing tube of rusting metal in his other hand.
‘Is your mistress in?’ I asked.
‘Wait out there. Verus will be back from the market.’ He started to close the gate on my face.
‘Wait.’ I stuck my boot in crack. ‘Is Clodius here?’
‘No.’
‘Who lives here now?’
‘Only Verus and the rest of us servants.’
‘Where is your mistress?’
‘Can’t say.’
I pushed the kid aside and fended off his silly
attempt to knock me out with his ridiculous pipe. I lifted him off his feet by his stained tunic.
‘Can’t say or won’t say?’
‘No one knows! Let me go!’
‘Tell someone in the kitchen that Marcus Gregorianus Numidianus is here. I’ll wait for Verus near the fountain.’
Late afternoon had always cast a melancholy air over the garden, especially after Lady Laetitia died. There was no place among its ageing trees and neglected flowers where a pair of dead ancestral eyes wasn’t gazing down at you. I sat on her stone bench, listening to the chilly fountain water slap onto a bed of dead foliage that should have been cleaned out weeks ago.
Staring at me now I spotted a familiar set of features set in fresh white wax. In all the chaos of this terrible time, Gregorius had managed to order a likeness of the Senator to join the Manlius faces lining all the corridors and walls of the atrium and garden portico.
And now? I put my head in my hands for a moment, realizing that there would be no likeness of Gregorius joining his ancestors. Leo might never know what the Commander looked like. I wondered if it was too late to commission a painting of him, as he’d once looked.
Verus found me there, sitting in silence as the light of everything I valued faded around me. I probably looked like a dead statue myself.
‘Marcus? Is that you?’
‘Where’s Kahina, Verus? Where’s the boy?’
‘I wouldn’t have known you. You’re just bones, son.’
‘What’s happened, Verus? Where is everyone?’
He glanced around him as if he didn’t trust all these dead aristocrats not to give him away. ‘Come out for a walk with me, Marcus. My old pair of legs needs a good stretch.’
‘I thought you’d just come from the market.’
I followed him back out into the street. Together we strolled towards the green park with its the little temple that marked the end of our neighborhood. A few sad drunken youths lounged around the perimeter but no one else took notice of us.
‘We don’t know where she is, Marcus. Clodius sent out messages to all the families that supported Magnentius, but half of them had fled and the other half was trying to pay their way out of trouble. Didn’t want nothing to do with us.’
‘How do you know she’s even alive?’
‘Because she sent this back for the boy.’ He took out his leather purse and unwrapped a scrap of knotted kitchen towel. I saw Kahina’s ring, a blue jewel set in gold, from Gregorius.
‘She sent it back by a soldier who said he escaped Aquileia during the evacuation of the palace. She paid him a pretty price to stay honest, I’m sure.’
‘What was the soldier’s name? Where is he now? Where was she going? Did she tell him?’
‘No one knows. It’s too dangerous out there, Marcus, to keep asking questions. You know that. Men keep knocking on our gate to ask the other servants whether we’ve heard where the lady matron of Commander Gregorius has got to. They even beat up the cook’s boy who didn’t want to let you in. “Why don’t she come home, now that the tyrant usurper’s dead and gone?” they ask. They say they got loose ends to tie up. Loose ends, my foot.’
‘I don’t like the sound of any of this. Have you shown her ring to the child?’
Verus just sniffed and rolled his eyes.
‘Oh, what am I saying?’ I looked up at the sky, surprised by my own stupidity. Whatever one gave to the baby Leo would end up in Clodius’ wallet or some pawnshop.
‘Any word from Clodius? Surely it’s safe enough for that reptile to come back and get to work. Nobody suspects him of counseling Magnentius to revolt.’
‘He’s busy in the gambling dens in Ostia, but I keep the nurse Lavinia on a tight leash, I do. I insist on weekly messages about the boy, and I makes sure her pocket money stays separate from what Clodius demands.’
‘Who’s running the estates, then?’
Verus slapped his wrinkled forehead. ‘Who’s been running them since the master and his lady moves out to that newfangled palace in Aquileia? What the hell’s in Aquileia? I ask you.’
‘You, Verus?’
Verus tapped his hollow, bony chest with a gnarled finger. ‘I get one of my friends to help me with the accounts and I know who to trust when it comes to the payments and such. We’ve got steady tenants down south but with Clodius in place, the Ostia properties aren’t bringing in as much as they should under a real dock man. From what I can get out of them up in Gallia, the herd numbers are way down because of the war. It’s a holding operation, that’s for sure.’
‘I’ll help you now, Verus.’
‘There’s enough income out there, son, but in this confusion, it’s just not being collected. And I can’t just gallivant around the countryside from the bee farm to the vineyards like a rent collector. Somebody’s got to watch over this place. Vandals know the family’s dishonored. They’ve got their eyes on our silver, I know it.’
‘I’ll try to help until it’s safe for Kahina to come back.’
‘When do you think that’ll be, Marcus?’
‘I can’t say, Verus. But I’ve got to see her back and running this house with your help, the ways things should be, for Gregorius’ sake.’
‘What if she ain’t even alive?’
I would not answer that.
We returned back to the Manlius kitchen. Verus roused the cook to make us supper. We ate in silence, each remembering happier days.
‘What did the master say as he died?’ Verus pushed his empty plate aside and leaned forward, his watery eyes staring at me. He had joined the household when the elder Manlius was still a thriving voice in the Senate, a nobleman of old Roman blood who’d just wed his controversial second wife—a Gallo-Roman woman of wealth and provincial lineage. He had held the baby Gregorius in his arms. Verus had spent his entire life looking after the Manlius household. No wonder he burned with a hunger to live Gregorius’ life right to the very end.
I took a deep breath and stared at my hands. Just like in the old days, we sat by the light of a single oil lamp at a wooden table in the servants’ quarters together, with two cups of cheap diluted wine in our hands. The early evening shouts and racket of kitchen servants scraping plates and tossing out scraps came in from the alleyway through the back window bare of curtains.
I paused, wondering what to say. Verus was so simple and true. No doubt he pictured the Commander’s death like a scene carved on some marble coffin lined with a relief of perfectly formed men and graceful women, their figures surrounded by a Latin couplet chiseled into the stone.
‘He died nobly but didn’t say much.’
‘He was struck down that fast, huh?’
‘No, Verus. You’re no simpering girl, so I’ll tell you the truth. He fought for every last painful breath in agony. We’d been out there half a day and all through the night. I’ve never seen so many men die. It was a miracle our paths even crossed.’
‘Stop shaking, boy. Have another drink.’
‘I found him nearly finished off, crawling for help through the muck with his sword and the shield still fastened to his hand.’
‘Oh, the gods have pity on our souls.’
‘I hope I never see such a battlefield again, Verus. It felt like we were sinking to the bottom of a dark roaring ocean that tossed us back and forth . . . without any let up. I can’t remember most of it. I remember going with my sword at . . . I killed a lot of . . . Some of them were completely sealed up in armor and they rolled around in the blood like . . . My ears just filled up with the death of all.’
‘Calm down, boy, calm down.’
‘And at night they still visit me in my dreams, Verus, and I wake up, and their hands are still clutching at me even once I’m wide awake. They won’t let me go, Verus, they won’t let me go.’
And then to my shame, I burst into tears. The old man took me into his embrace. We rocked back and forth together. He stroked my hair with his bent fingers and muttered, ‘It’s all right, son, you’re home
now.’ He hadn’t ruffled my hair since I was a little slave caught stealing sweets in the kitchen.
I nodded and straightened up, pulled myself together and finished the drink in front of me. I mopped up my face with a cook’s rag.
‘Then the Commander didn’t say nothing?’
I had guarded my secret so long. ‘I stayed with him until it was over,’ I wavered. ‘I’m only thankful I found him before it was too late.’
‘He knew it was you? Out of all them thousands of men out there, he knew you’d found him?’
‘Yes, he knew. For a minute there, he tried to hang on to my bulla cord. He pulled it right off.’
‘Lucky thing it didn’t get trampled under some horse, ain’t it?’
I shrugged. Suddenly, after nearly twenty years, the Senator’s bulla didn’t seem so important as it had. It belonged to another time and place. In its stead, the Commander himself had named me his son, with his own voice and acceptance in his heart. I knew the blood of Mursa had washed away his bitterness. I had what I wanted, even if society would never recognize me as his son.
I pulled the clumsy amulet out of my tunic. ‘I should give it up, Verus. People think I’m an idiot for wearing a boy’s talisman.’
‘‘A great lump of pottery and bronze like that, it wasn’t ever much to look at. I mean, it’s the Senator’s present and all that, but he’s gone and Gregorius gone with him.’ He shook his hoary head. ‘Well, it’s up to you. The old man wanted you to have it. You never took it off once, not even when the other boys teased you.’
He paused and rubbed his white bristles with a calloused hand. ‘Although I remember once he told me to take it down in a box to the smith’s to have it mended. So you took it off then.’
‘I don’t recall breaking it. In fact, I’m certain I never did.’
‘Well, it needed repairing. I paid the bill myself when I picked it up. You were a bit of a roughhouse.’
‘If anybody was a bully, it was Clodius. The bruises I—’