Having my mother with me made it easier for me to bear being a slave, I guess. That and the fact that I have always been in the house of a kind master, unlike Lorcis. I never forget that I’m a slave, but it isn’t always the foremost thought in my mind. My kind master gave Lorcis and Martial the farm where they now live on the road to Nomentum. I’ve never been there before.
X
At the second hour the next morning, Saturius fell all over himself as he apologized. “Sir, I have only six horses at the moment. I gave your friend Martial one yesterday afternoon, as your note instructed me to do.” He didn’t point the blame at me with his finger; his voice did the job. “If you can wait an hour, I’m sure I can procure another one for your party.”
“No, we need to leave right now,” I said. “We’ll have to make do.” I looked at Aurora with an eyebrow raised. She nodded.
As my other servants moved toward their horses, I reached for the reins of one.
“Not that one, my lord,” Aurora said. She patted another beast. “This one has a stronger back.”
Saturius helped me mount. Once settled, I extended my hand to Aurora and pulled her up behind me. She worked her tunic down as far as she could and wrapped her arms around me. Let my other servants think what they would. I felt I was being rewarded for my act of kindness to Martial and regretted that his farm on the Via Nomentana was only six miles away.
We took the road alongside the wall of Servius Tullius until we came to the Via Nomentana. Turning there, we headed northeast. On my instructions, my other servants stayed far enough behind Aurora and me that we could converse quietly. She was tall enough—and I was short enough—that her chin could rest on my shoulder. Her hands came to rest farther down.
“Your sword’s not the only long, hard thing under your tunic,” she said when we were less than a mile from the city.
I was relieved of the necessity of a reply because her attention was drawn to the estate we were passing.
“That’s an impressive property. Whose is it?”
“That was the estate of Antonia Caenis,” I said.
“Oh, this is where it is,” Aurora said. “My mother knew her. She was Vespasian’s…mistress, wasn’t she?”
“More like his wife in all but name. My uncle used to talk about how much influence she had on him, for the good, fortunately.”
“Did you ever come out here?”
“No, but my uncle did.”
Caenis was a former slave of Antonia, mother of the princeps Claudius. Vespasian had been a favorite of Antonia’s and had met Caenis while at Antonia’s house. Their relationship had lasted for years, even when Vespasian was married. In his capacity as an advisor to Vespasian, my uncle had been invited out here, a place where Vespasian could escape the pressures of life on the Palatine Hill.
“He brought my mother with him, didn’t he?” Aurora said. “She told me about meeting Vespasian, but I didn’t realize this was where it happened.”
“Yes. Since my uncle’s relationship with Monica was similar to Vespasian’s with Caenis, the two men formed a close bond. I think your mother and Caenis even became friends.”
“They did. My mother grieved when Caenis died.” Aurora fell silent until we had passed the estate. Then she said, “Gaius, am I going to be your—”
“You will always be the woman I love.” She squeezed me tightly. “That’s what Livilla came to talk with me about night before last. I’m sorry I haven’t found a chance to tell you before this.”
I could feel her body tense against mine.
“What did she have to say?”
“That she will not marry me.”
“Because of me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, Gaius. I’m so sorry—”
“Why? It’s the best news I’ve had in a long time. I don’t know what it ultimately means for us, but it means I don’t have to marry right now. We have time to think about how things might work out.”
“Your mother will hate me more than ever now.”
“I’ll take care of my mother.”
“You can’t send her far enough away to take care of this.”
I knew she was right, but at the moment—on a beautiful day, with her arms around me and her body pressed against mine—it didn’t seem to matter at all.
*
The sun was well up over the mountains now, bright enough to bother my eyes but also knocking the night’s chill off the countryside.
“What’s this farm like?” Aurora asked.
I had to look straight ahead. If I turned my head even slightly, I could kiss her, and I was aching to do it. “It’s nondescript. It never was one of our most important properties. My uncle took it as payment for a debt before I was born but never did anything other than rent it out to tenants. It’s a working farm, with a small house, not a villa.”
“Still, it’s out of Rome.”
“Given the rate at which Rome is growing, it won’t be long before you’ll be able to see the city from there, and that will spoil whatever charm the place might have.”
We rode in silence for a while, at a slow pace to make it easier on the horse carrying the two of us. Aurora’s closeness, her warmth, her scent, her breasts pressing against my back—it all made me want to goad my horse, outdistance the men riding with us, and just keep going.
“We’ve seen no sign of Regulus,” Aurora said. “Do you think he might have gotten there before us?”
“I’m more worried that he might have an ambush waiting for us. He knows where we’re going and when. It would be easy to set up.”
She cocked her head toward me. “Do you think he’s capable of that kind of treachery?”
“He’s capable of anything when it comes to his hatred of me.”
“Gaius, sometimes I think Tacitus was right when he said you overestimate how much Regulus dislikes you. The streets of Rome are thronged with people he hates, and who hate him in return. Do you really hold so high a place in his…disregard?”
“My uncle turned Vespasian and Titus against him. For over ten years Regulus had no access to the princeps. He has never forgiven me for that. I’ve beaten him twice in court now—humiliated him a few days ago. That just stokes the fire.”
She gave me an extra squeeze. “But today you’ve piqued his curiosity. That may outweigh his desire for vengeance.”
“Only temporarily, I assure you.”
“I just hope the whole business doesn’t take long.”
“Are you still thinking about what happened at Misenum, shortly after the eruption?”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry you had to massage him after his bath, but he was a guest and I had just taken on my uncle’s inheritance. Regulus was a powerful man—”
“You did what you had to, and so did I.”
“He probably won’t even remember you. It was five years ago. Who knows how many hundreds of girls have massaged him since then?”
*
We arrived at about the fourth hour. Regulus and his party hadn’t arrived yet.
“It’s a pretty little place, my lord,” one of the men said as we dismounted and tied our horses to the fence that surrounded the front of the house and served to keep animals out of a vegetable garden during the spring and summer.
“Someone’s been fixing it up,” Aurora said. “It’s quite lovely.” She looked at the man who had spoken first, so I hoped everyone assumed she was addressing him, not me, since she had omitted the honorific “my lord.”
“I’m sure it’s all Lorcis’ work,” I said. “Martial’s not the type to get his hands dirty with anything except his pen and ink.”
Beyond the gate, a path led to the front door, where Lorcis and her daughter waited to greet us. I waved and smiled.
The first time I saw Lorcis was the day before the eruption of Vesuvius. Her owner at that time was a friend of my uncle’s who had come out from Naples to Misenum to visit us, a decision that probably saved his life. Lorcis
was entertaining us with her auloi on the terrace of the villa that afternoon when my mother spotted the cloud rising from the volcano. The next day, as ash and darkness descended on us, Lorcis helped me guide my mother to safety. I didn’t see her again until a year later, after her owner had sold her to Regulus in an effort to recoup some of his losses caused by the eruption.
A dark-haired woman with a Syrian background, Lorcis has always struck me as beautiful, her only flaw a slightly pointed chin. A slave with a talent like hers lives a pampered life, compared to those who toil in the kitchen or do other kinds of drudge work. Two years on a farm had hardened Lorcis’ body, trimmed her down, but her face glowed with contentment. Part of that no doubt came from the little girl clinging to her tunic—her nicest, I assumed, though it was shabbier than the one Aurora was wearing.
“Good morning, sir,” she said, “and welcome. It’s wonderful to see you. And Aurora! I never imagined you would come out here.”
Aurora stepped forward and hugged Lorcis. “I’m so glad to see you again, and to see you here.”
“Wait,” I said. “How do you two know each other?”
“Our paths crossed one day in the Forum,” Lorcis said, still holding Aurora’s hand. “It was about four years ago, wasn’t it? I was still Regulus’ slave.”
Aurora nodded. “We had a short conversation, but a memorable one.”
“Yes, we talked about our masters.” The two women smiled the way women do when they share a secret that no man can penetrate. “Aurora gave me a lot to think about. We met and talked a few more times before I…left Rome.”
“Well, perhaps you can reminisce some other time,” I said, wondering what Aurora would have said about me four years ago that might have prompted such a smile. She stepped back behind me. “Thank you for your hospitality on such short notice, Lorcis. I hope this isn’t too much of an intrusion.”
“Not at all, sir. You’re welcome at any time. How is your mother?”
“About as well as can be expected, I suppose, at her age.” I didn’t want to talk about that, so I turned my head to survey the farm. “I haven’t seen this place in quite a while. You’ve done a lot of work on it. And I’ll bet you have a good helper.” I knelt and extended a hand to Erotion, but she clung more tightly to her mother’s tunic.
“She’s a bit shy.” Lorcis picked the little girl up and settled her on her hip. “We don’t get many visitors.” Erotion threw her arms around her mother’s neck and turned her face away from me.
“She’s a beautiful child.”
“Thank you, sir. We just wish we knew where she got this golden hair.” Lorcis ran her fingers through Erotion’s long, curly hair, but the child still would not turn around.
“Is Martial here?”
Lorcis shook her head. “He left before dawn for Rome. He’s going to guide…our other guest out here, to be certain he can find the place. Erotion and I are about to take a walk. Do you think this meeting will last long?”
“I’d be surprised if it takes an hour. Should we send up some sort of signal when we’re done?”
“No. We’ll be able to see from up there.” She nodded toward a tree-lined ridge fifty paces or so behind the house. “We’ll take our leave now. The house is yours. There’s wine, bread, fruit and cheese in the front room on your right. Help yourselves.”
As Lorcis and her daughter followed a path around to the back of the house, Aurora and I entered the front door. The house was built on a model from the early days of Rome, before everything was influenced by the Greeks. The atrium was the center of the building, and there was no peristyle garden on the rear.
“It’s just half a house,” Aurora said.
“But out in the country, you don’t need an enclosed garden.”
The two front rooms did not open to the street, as they would in a modern house in Rome itself. Because it was not jammed up against any neighbors, sharing a wall with them, this house had a few windows. Since I last saw it, it had been transformed—cracks in the walls patched, everything painted in soft colors that made the rooms seem larger, somehow restful.
We entered the room where Lorcis said she had laid out food. It contained a good-sized table and several chairs. On a chest in one corner of the room lay a pair of ivory auloi. Aurora bent to examine them.
“The inscription says these are a gift from Gaius Pliny. Is that you or your uncle?”
“It’s me. She lost hers during the eruption. I gave her those to thank her for helping me save my mother.”
“I wish I could have been there with you.”
“And you know how much I wish the same. But my uncle was still grieving over your mother’s death. It was difficult for him to have you around. That’s why he ordered you to be left in Rome when we went to join him in Misenum. And maybe it was just as well. Don’t forget, several of our servants died in that disaster.”
That memory made this moment somber. Then we heard the clopping of horses’ hooves and the rumbling of a raeda coming to the front of the house.
“We’re here!” Martial called out. “Lock up your wives and daughters.”
*
I left the house and stood behind the gate as Regulus’ party dismounted. A quick count confirmed that he had brought a dozen men. I touched my sword. Had I set up a trap for myself?
The door of the raeda swung open and Regulus eased his bulk out with help from two of his servants. Behind him I could see the rich woods and gold-and-silver fittings of the interior. I also caught a glimpse of the woman who was riding with him, pulling her gown back up onto her shoulders and fastening her brooch. She spat and wiped her mouth on the hem of her garment.
“Welcome, Marcus Regulus,” I said. “Thank you for coming. I trust your journey was pleasant.”
Regulus’ face reminds me of a man who needs to move his bowels but can’t. Even when he smiles while making a speech in court, the left side of his mouth is all that turns up. He is vain about his black hair and goes to great lengths to disguise the fact that he’s losing it. There is an oiliness about him that makes me want to wipe my hands whenever I’m in his presence. And yet he’s considered by many to be a charming man. He has endeared himself to many childless widows who have left him huge sums of money or estates.
“Do I look like it was pleasant, Gaius Pliny?” He brushed himself off and moved his shoulders and arms like a man stretching out his discomfort. “What is the meaning of this? It had better be something of earth-shaking importance.”
“I believe it is. That’s why, before anything else is said, we need to go inside, as agreed, with one trusted observer each.”
Regulus rolled his eyes as though acceding to the whims of a petulant child. “Very well. Nestor!”
Until then I hadn’t noticed that Nestor—or Jacob, as I knew him—was in Regulus’ retinue. He looked like the ride had been difficult for him. At his age, that wasn’t surprising.
“Are you content,” I asked Regulus, “to have Valerius Martial stand at the gate here with one man from each of our parties and make sure no one gets any closer?” I knew Regulus would trust Martial, and I—well, I would have to. “I’m afraid we don’t have provisions to feed this many people. I was expecting you to bring only six.”
“Then you are a fool.” Regulus started up the path. “My people will be fine. There’s food in the raeda. I need something to drink.”
Aurora was pouring wine and arranging food on a table in the main room of the house. Regulus’ head jerked when he saw her.
“This is your trusted observer?” He waved a hand heavy with his signet ring and several other baubles.
“Yes, she is. I’m almost as surprised at your choice, meaning no offense to…Nestor.”
“I take none, my lord,” Jacob said, backing into a corner.
“There is no servant—no living person—in my house whom I trust more than Nestor.”
“I didn’t think you trusted anyone in your house.”
“I don’t. Tha
t’s my point. At the risk of some cumbersome negatives, it might be more accurate to say I mistrust him less than anyone else in my house.”
“That’s why you sent him with that message to Domitian a few nights ago, isn’t it?” I said.
Regulus nodded and chuckled, taking a cup of wine from Aurora’s hand. “I knew I could count on him to do two things: run straight to you and not break my seal. I also knew you were honorable enough not to break the seal. Seeing that the message was intended for Domitian, you would simply imagine the worst. That was what I wanted and Nestor was the only servant I have who wouldn’t go straight to Domitian.”
“You misjudge the man, Marcus Regulus. He has never informed on you to me.”
“I’m not blind, Gaius Pliny. Nestor hates me, but he is a man of honor. I understand both of you perfectly.”
“What if you had misjudged one of us and we had opened the message?”
“I never misjudge people, Gaius Pliny. For instance, I judged that you would be honorable enough to bring only six men today.” He took a long swallow of the wine. “But if you had opened that note, you would have found a message telling Domitian that I was sending it as a joke on you.”
“You mean—”
“Oh, I thought about writing Please kill this messenger, but Domitian might have taken me seriously, and I can’t afford to lose good ol’ Nestor.” He slapped his servant on the shoulder like they were two friends having a drink in a taberna.
“So you weren’t spying on me when I rode—”
“Out to Marinthus’ taberna? No more than usual.”
“And Segetius and Rufinus aren’t your men?”
“Who?” The lack of recognition on his face seemed genuine.
“Never mind. Then you had nothing to do with what I found out there?”
“Nothing whatsoever. Decapitated bodies aren’t my style. They lack subtlety.”
How could he know so much? What did he not know? My mind raced through the names of the freedmen I’d taken with me. Was one of them an informant in Regulus’ pay? Could it be someone at the taberna—Marinthus himself perhaps? No, Theodorus. It had to be Theodorus.
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