Tears rolled down Pompeia’s cheeks as she stared at Cantilius, They had tortured him. She reached out towards him with her hand and called out his name but he just stood there as if he had lost his hearing, his head resting on his chin.
“Get out,” Metellus snapped and without a further word or glance Cantilius was dragged from the room.
“You tortured him, he has done nothing wrong,” she hissed.
Metellus smirked. “I did nothing,” he declared, “As I said he came to me with his confession. Maybe he’d realised the trouble he’d gotten himself into. You vestals are going to wash away the sins of Rome with your blood. The people know that it has to be so. You have no friends now. No one is going to speak up for you now.”
Pompeia knew then that Metellus was speaking the truth. There was no one now whom she could turn to for support.
“I did not break my vows to Vesta,” she glared at him in desperation. “Not even with Cantilius, whatever he may have told you. The doctors can prove that I am still a virgin.”
Metellus looked down at her with a mixture of disgust and pleasure.
“Ah yes,” he said, “I have wanted to do this for a long time.”
With a speed that took Pompeia by surprise he pushed her back onto the couch. She cried out and tried to fight back but he was stronger. Her arms were pinned down and her dress was ripped away. She felt his stinking breath on her face. Pompeia screamed
“You are not going to be a virgin for much longer,” Metellus laughed.
***
They sat together, alone, in Numerius’ garden on the Janiculum overlooking the city of Rome. It was morning. Pompeia was clothed in the traditional robes of a priestess of Vesta. Her head was partially veiled and an angry purple bruise lit up her face but there was quiet dignity in her voice as she spoke. Numerius was staring into the distance, dark circles hung under his eyes and he was unshaven. Now and then he coughed.
She glanced again at her father. He seemed to have aged rapidly in the past couple of days. It was unbelievable how quickly his world was collapsing around him she thought. In the space of a few weeks he had contracted Malaria, had lost his adopted son and now his daughter had been raped. Fortune had abandoned him and she wondered how he was coping and how long he could last.
When she had first come to him and told him what Metellus had done Numerius had reacted like she had expected. Without uttering a word, he had risen from his chair and strode to where his armour and weapons were stored. Only after she had shouted at him had she managed to get him to sit down again. His face was ashen and his hands had trembled. You are a lawyer. Think it through to the end she had told him. What use was violence against such powerful men? She would not allow him to place his own life in danger for her. What had been done could not be undone. In the final reckoning it would be her word against theirs and they would not lose, they could not afford to lose. No, she had said with growing strength and purpose in her voice, the only thing that she could do was to keep on showing them that she was not afraid. She would continue, as before and act with as much dignity as she could muster. The priests would not be allowed to poke scorn at her. She would show them. She would endure the torment they had inflicted upon her and she would win the people, she would win the people to her cause.
Only then had Numerius spoken. He’d told her of his love for her as a little girl and of his pride on seeing her enter the order of Vestals. He’d told her about the sorrow of seeing her move out of the house and the way in which he had recorded her progress and the special care in which she undertook her duties. He’d had such faith and confidence in her. Then his voice had changed and grown warm and friendly like she remembered from when she was still a child. Nothing had changed he’d told her. She did not need to ask him for forgiveness for what she had with Cantilius. He could see now that his love and faith had been justified. Metellus was wrong if he’d thought she had no friends, and upon saying that, tears had finally sprung into her eyes.
He’d gone on to tell her that her fate was not yet decided. She should stay with him in his house. He would send for a few trusted men he knew, who would guard her night and day. If the priests came for her then he’d arrange for her to slip away to Ostia. There would be a ship waiting there which would take her to Marsillia where he had friends and where she would be safe. He would be damned if they took her. There would be violence then he warned but she had refused all his offers of help. She must show them that she was not afraid. She had done nothing wrong. Vesta would not allow her to be punished for something she had not done. The goddess would protect her.
Her reply had sent Numerius into a sullen silence.
“If you stay in Rome, there is another matter that will concern you,” he said suddenly.
She looked at him without understanding.
“Did you love Publius?” he said gruffly.
“He was a brother to me,” she nodded solemnly drying her face.
“I know who killed him,” Numerius said, “The target was Fabius. Publius got in the way by accident. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Who did it?”
“My brother, Caeso,” Numerius replied raising his eyebrows. He glanced at her as if to read her reactions.
“Uncle Caeso!” she looked at him in surprise. She’d never met her uncle and knew very little about him apart from what everyone else knew, that he had murdered her grandfather. Her father had not liked to talk about uncle Caeso.
“I thought he was dead,” she muttered.
“No, he has returned to kill Fabius. I think he is working for the Carthaginians.”
“Do you know where he is?”
Numerius shook his head. “We are searching for him all over the city. I think someone may be protecting him. We’ve found nothing.”
“Oh papa,” she muttered as the realisation slowly sunk in. Pompeia stared at her father trying to gage his thoughts but the old man’s face was unreadable.
She had never really thought much about her uncle, he was a man without a face, and his name had rarely been mentioned. He’d been a taboo and yet now it seemed he had come back to haunt the family once more. History was repeating itself. The man had managed to kill two of her kin. When was this nightmare going to end?
"This will all end with me", Numerius said as if reading her mind.
She glanced at Numerius but he avoided her with a strange guilty look and suddenly she sensed there was something else. She understood that he would wish to protect her from the priests. But there was something else. She could not fully place it but there was something he was not telling her. It was as if he was trying to protect her from something. Perhaps that was why he was so keen to send her away to Marsillia?
Chapter Nineteen – The right and proper thing to do
The following morning Titus rose at dawn. He’d hardly slept and when he had, his sleep had been disturbed by violent flashbacks to Cannae and he’d woken with a start, his body drenched in sweat. Ever since the battle he had felt alone. He had longed to be able to talk to someone about what he’d witnessed but only the men whom had participated in the battle could possibly understand the sheer terror and emotions of that day.
He found Frontinus as usual in his workshop on the ground floor.
“Numerius Fabius Vibulani,” Titus said pronouncing the names with delegate care. “I am going to go to his house today.”
Frontinus grunted and raised his hammer to strike at a white hot piece of metal. “Without an official introduction they will throw you out onto the street,” he said. “You are wasting your time.
The Patricians won’t speak to you.”
“Nevertheless I have to try,” Titus said stubbornly.
Frontinus sighed and struck the metal with several hammer blows that rang out around the workshop.
“Suit yourself then,” he grumbled. “But if you want my advice. Take your family Titus and return to the mountains, leave Rome. Milo has his eye on you and he
won’t give up until he has what he wants. You can’t beat him.”
“I will not run from him,” and there was something in Titus’ voice that made Frontinus look up, “I will not leave Rome and forgo what was promised me. I will convince this Numerius that I speak the truth.”
There was stubbornness about the way Titus looked that made Frontinus smile.
“You look just like your father,” the blacksmith said, “But even if this Numerius agrees to educate you, what about Milo? He won’t leave you alone and you have a family to consider. Run to the mountains boy, it is sound advice.”
Titus folded his arms across his chest.
“If I run now, I will run for the rest of my life,” he muttered.
Frontinus sighed once more and fretted with a dirty cloth. It was clear that he was not happy with Titus’ decision.
“There is a rumour going around the city,” Frontinus said carefully, “that the survivors from Cannae are being sent to serve in Sicily for an indefinite period as punishment for their disgrace on the battlefield. If you stay in Rome, they will send you away Titus. It could be years before you are allowed to return and what will happen to your mother and sister in the meantime. Take them back to the mountains. You will have a life there at least.”
Titus lowered his head and stared at the floor, deep in thought and the workshop fell silent. Then at last he looked up.
“The magistrates are not allowing anyone to leave the city,” he said, “The mountains are filled with bandits and lawlessness. I have seen it for myself. I will speak with this Numerius and when Milo comes I shall stand up to him in the best way that I can. I may be just one man, but I was born free and I will not live my life like a slave. I have seen death and I have seen hell and I have survived them both and I will do so again.”
Frontinus straightened up and nodded and there was a sudden respect on the older man’s face.
“So you have Titus, so you have. You are not a boy anymore. Forgive me, I spoke hastily,” Frontinus replied.
Titus glanced towards the doorway. “If I can educate myself, I can improve the position of myself and my family. If I can do this, all my ancestors will benefit.”
Frontinus nodded solemnly.
“That is right and proper,” he muttered. “If Hannibal comes to Rome I shall go to the walls and fight him. No Punic child killer shall enter my house as long as I live. That too is right and proper.”
***
It was early evening and the day’s heat was gradually losing its intensity. Titus and Frontinus sat on the large door stone outside the workshop enjoying the cool breeze. Titus was recounting his meeting with Numerius. He looked slightly disappointed.
“So he said that he would think about it,” Frontinus interrupted.
Titus nodded. “The man is ill,” he muttered, “he didn’t admit it but I could see it in his face. He’s got marsh fever.”
“Go on,” Frontinus said.
“Well they wouldn’t let me meet him at first. He’s got an office down near the Capena gate where the firemen are based. But I refused to leave and Scipio’s name eventually got me into the room with him.”
Titus took a deep breath. “He seemed surprised at first, then distracted and also a bit annoyed. I suppose with the war and how things are going people don’t have much time to think about anything else. He didn’t like it that I couldn’t show him a letter of introduction. Nearly threw me out of the room at that point. He’s a bit old fashioned, lectured me on Roman virtues and manners as if I was his son and then he questioned me aggressively on how I had come to know Scipio but I think by the end he was convinced that I was speaking the truth.”
Frontinus scratched his chin. “A man with marsh fever isn’t going to make a very good teacher, even if he agrees to do it,” he sighed.
“We shall see,” Titus shrugged, “But I was promised this reward and I shall have it.”
“Fair and proper,” Frontinus grunted approvingly. “So he didn’t mind teaching a Samnite then? That does surprise me a little.
These Patricians like to keep to their own class you know.”
“He never even mentioned it.”
“Fair and proper,” Frontinus frowned.
Titus suddenly looked thoughtful, “I don’t know why I said it, a hunch I suppose, but remember when Milo burnt my letter he also claimed to know Numerius, he called him an arse, so I thought I would mention Milo’s name to Numerius and he knew him alright.” Titus leaned forwards with a triumphant smile.
“Numerius was a lawyer and has tried to prosecute Milo on numerous occasions. He would love nothing more than to bring Milo down. There is no love lost between those two, that’s certain.”
Frontinus’ eyes widened in delight, “An ally,” he muttered.
Titus nodded, “Maybe, if he doesn’t die too soon. Numerius said he would send a messenger to Scipio to confirm my story. The last I know was that Scipio was at Venusia but he could be anywhere by now. It will take time before I have my reply. I will have to sit tight.”
“How does the Scipio family know Numerius?” Frontinus looked puzzled.
“I don’t know,” Titus shrugged, “does it matter?”
Frontinus looked down at his blistered hands.
“I don’t know how much time you are going to have,” he said.
“Have you heard the latest news? Capua has gone over to Hannibal. Those fucking Campanians have proved themselves to be as reliable as the Gaul’s. They are the second largest city in Italy. We protected them for over a hundred years and this is how they repay us. The scum have no honour.”
“I am not surprised,” Titus muttered, “At Cannae,” he paused and frowned, “Hannibal’s cavalry were terrifying. We were defeated by their cavalry, our men couldn’t match them. They were superb riders.”
Frontinus grunted something unintelligible. Titus looked up at the evening sky where the first stars were appearing.
“But I don’t think Hannibal will come to Rome,” he said.
Frontinus looked up sharply, “Why do you say that?”
Titus smiled, “Because cavalry alone cannot take a fortified city.”
Frontinus stared at him and then he too grinned.
“You should do the rounds on the walls and tell the soldiers, they all believe Hannibal will be here within days. They are as nervous as young maidens on their wedding night.”
The two of them laughed at that and the laughter eased some of the tension.
“Maybe you are right,” Frontinus said slowly, “but I can’t see how we can win the war by just hiding behind walls and fortifications. No Roman army will dare to face Hannibal in open contest now, not after Cannae. If what you say is true about the Carthaginian cavalry then it would be foolish to fight them in a pitched battle. Still I have faith in Fabius, if there is a man who knows what we must do, then it will be him. He will find a solution. Do you know what they call him now? The Shield of Rome.”
“I heard that someone tried to kill him,” Titus said, “Seems they killed the wrong man instead.”
Frontinus nodded gravely, “Lucky for us they missed, Fabius has put up notices in the forum offering a reward for the assassins capture. But I reckon they will have fled the city by now.”
Just then Aelia, Titus sister rounded the corner of the alley and strode straight past them into the building without saying a word. Her right eye was covered in an enormous dark, angry bruise. Titus rose to his feet and called out to her but she did not reply. Leaving Frontinus on the door step he went after her and found her sitting on the stairs. She had covered her head with her hands and her body shook and trembled as she sobbed.
“What happened?” he said laying an arm across her shoulders.
Angrily she shook him off. “Don’t touch me!”
“Who did this to you?”
She sobbed quietly and refused to answer. Titus repeated the question.
Again she refused to answer. Then Titus took her hands and forced them
away from her face. In the flickering light from the oil lamps he could see that the bruise was huge and her lip had been split.
“I will ask you one final time, who did this to you?” he cried.
Defiantly she stared at him through teary eyes. “Who do you think you are, my father? Leave me alone!”
“I am the head of this family now and you will obey me. I can let you go if you don’t.”
She stared at him defiantly. “But you wouldn’t?”
“Will you tell me?” there was something menacing in his voice that seemed to surprise both of them.
She sniffed and looked away and the threat seemed to work.
“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” she snuffled.
“I won’t.”
“My boyfriend,” she said reluctantly, “Marcus, Servilia’s son.”
“Marcus, the illegitimate son of Servilia, the whore?” there was disgust in Titus’ voice. “That’s your boyfriend?”
“You see, I shouldn’t have said anything,” she cried.
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