*
Sometimes when traveling one is surprised at the quality of a meal in an inn. On this night I was surprised at how bad Marinthus’ cooking was—the meat overdone and the pastry little more than raw dough. I suppose he thought it all averaged out.
When we were ready to retire I asked him for the keys to the two rooms at the top of the stairs.
“You want the keys, sir?”
“That’s what I said. I am concerned about Aurora’s safety because of her blindness.”
“Well, sir, I can understand that, I suppose. Let me get them.”
With the door locked behind us, Aurora put her arms around my neck. “Oh, Gaius, I never dreamed we’d have another night together this soon.”
I kissed her bruised forehead and ran my fingers through her hair. “Darling, I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I don’t want to make love to you tonight.”
She leaned back from me, still in my embrace. “What? Why—”
“I feel like I would be taking advantage of you, and I don’t want to do that.”
She smiled wickedly. “Good. That will give me a chance to take advantage of you.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“Please close the shutters and douse the lamps.”
I did as she told me.
“There’s still some light in here, isn’t there? Enough for you to see me?”
“Yes, it’s dim, but there is light.”
“And your eyes are at their best in dim light. Do you have your weapon with you?”
I handed her the short legionary sword that I have taken to carrying under my tunic. She cut a strip off the bedding and blindfolded me.
“What…what are you doing?”
“Most of the time, dear Gaius, when people make love, they are aroused by what they see.” She gave the blindfold a final tug. “But what about what you feel and hear and…taste?”
In complete darkness she removed my tunic and I unfastened the brooch on her shoulder—clumsily because I couldn’t see it—and let her tunic fall to the floor. At first I was frustrated because I longed to luxuriate in the beauty of her body, but then her mouth and hands began to work their way over me. I responded in the same way and we fell onto the bed.
She was right. Not being able to see her body made me more aware of places like the backs of her knees, the delicate bones in her hands, the space between her breasts. Experiencing her body this way was totally unlike being able to see her. Touching her without seeing her gave a new mystery—a new allurement—to places I thought I was becoming familiar with. When we finally lay in one another’s arms, panting, I didn’t even remove the blindfold.
“By the way, Gaius,” she said, placing a hand over my pounding heart, “I do check for lumps in my breasts. Regularly.”
“I didn’t mean…” I pulled the blindfold off. “It’s just that I love you so much—”
“It’s all right.” She kissed me lightly. “I know you’re worried about your mother. Rest assured that I do pay attention to it, although it feels a lot better when you do it…and you’re much more…thorough.” She moaned as I cupped one of her breasts in my hand and kissed it.
*
The next morning we were home by the third hour, saying farewell to Tacitus as we passed the Aventine Hill. As soon as we entered my house, Demetrius approached me with a piece of papyrus in his hand. Phineas hovered behind him, eager to say something but deferring to his superior.
“This was delivered yesterday evening, my lord,” Demetrius said as he handed me the note.
“It’s from Nonnius,” I told Aurora as I broke the seal and opened the message. “He says Crispina’s farm and all of her servants except her steward have been sold, for a considerable sum. Her steward collected the money and says he’s going to meet Crispina, but he wouldn’t say where.”
“She’ll be able to get away then, my lord,” Aurora said, mindful of her fellow servants. “She can go anywhere she pleases.”
“I just hope Massilia isn’t on her itinerary.”
“At this time of year she’s more likely to travel overland, my lord, and that means going north—across the Alps and the Rhine.”
Since she couldn’t see me, I put a hand on her shoulder. “Have you planned such a trip?”
“Every slave has, my lord.”
“Well.” What else could I say but “well”? When I looked at Demetrius and Phineas, they both took a sudden interest in the floor.
“Do you remember anything she said to you while you were at the taberna about where she was from or her family? Anything that might give us a clue as to where to find her?”
“No, I’m sorry, my lord, I don’t. And if I did, I’m not sure we could believe it.”
“That’s true.” I motioned for Phineas to step forward. “Do you have some news?”
“Yes, my lord. As you instructed me, I’ve kept watch on the men who are watching our house. I followed one of them yesterday.”
“Where did he go?”
“He was headed toward the temple of Minerva Medica, my lord, but I lost sight of him in the crowd. I’m not tall enough to see over people, and he was short as well.”
“There are several insulae in that area. Crispina must be staying in one. I’ll follow him next time.”
*
We found my mother and Naomi sitting in the garden, enjoying a spot of sun on a cool day. Aurora hung back as I greeted them.
“Did Demetrius deliver the message that came for you last night?” Mother asked. I was struck that her tone was merely inquisitive, not accusatory.
“Yes, he did.” I held up the document.
“Was it anything important?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“That’s certainly an ambiguous answer. Anyway, did you have a successful trip?”
“We learned some useful things, I think,” I said, “and got a couple of problems out of the way.”
“That sounds like the very definition of success.” She looked around and beyond me. “And are you feeling any better, Aurora dear? Any change in your blindness?”
Aurora was so surprised to hear my mother addressing her in such a pleasant tone and by her right name that it took her a moment to reply. “No…no, my lady. No change. But I feel fine. Thank you.” She looked and sounded like someone who expected a surprise or a trick to be played on her at any moment.
Mother actually smiled. “I’m glad to hear it, dear. Now, Naomi, will you share your news, please?”
“I’m not sure it’s news, my lady,” Naomi said. “It’s actually rather old.”
“Get to the point, Naomi,” Mother said.
“Yes, my lady. It seems that Phineas says he has found something that will interest both of you, my lord. He’s in the library. With your permission, my lady, I’ll walk with them.”
“By all means,” my mother said.
Guiding Aurora by the elbow, I led her back into the atrium and toward the library. As soon as we were out of Mother’s sight, Aurora turned to Naomi and, before I could, asked, “Why is she being so kind to me?”
“That’s why I wanted to walk with you, and with you, my lord. Because of her illness she regrets the way she has treated Aurora and the animosity she harbored for Monica. She wants to atone.”
“ ‘Atone’? That sounds like one of your words. Don’t you Jews have a whole day for atoning?” I had heard something about it a few years ago when I served in Syria, where many Jews settled after the destruction of Jerusalem.
“Yes, my lord, each year in the fall. It’s called Yom Kippur. It occurred recently. Lady Plinia went to the synagogue with us. I explained the meaning of it to her.”
One of my greatest fears is that Naomi might persuade my mother to become a Jew, if that’s even possible. My mother has always been susceptible to religious hysteria—even more so than most women—and the eruption of Vesuvius frightened her to the depths of her being.
I stopped walking and, still hol
ding Aurora’s arm, turned to face Naomi. “Don’t think for a moment that she’s going to join your cult and give all her money to your…synagogue, isn’t it? I know she’s already given some gifts to the place, but I can take control of her money if I have reason to believe she’s not in her right mind.”
Naomi did not cower; she is a courageous woman who has been toughened by all she has survived—the loss of her husband and a child, the destruction of her homeland, and her enslavement. “My lord, you misunderstand me entirely. When your mother asks me questions, I answer them honestly. That’s my responsibility as her servant and her friend—to help her find comfort in her time of need. I have never suggested that she might become a Jew.”
“Is it possible for her to do so?” It seemed such an alien concept—my mother, the Jew. I could more easily imagine her running off to join some tribe in Germany or painting herself blue and screeching like the Picts north of Britain.
“Yes, my lord. There is a ritual. It involves a bath—a mikvah—but I’ve never even hinted—”
“See that you don’t.” Almost jerking Aurora off balance, I resumed walking to the library, mulling over the words in my mind. Yom Kippur? Mikvah? Why do so many Hebrew words sound like the person speaking them is choking on something? At least “synagogue” was a word they’d borrowed from the Greeks, for some reason.
*
Mine is one of the largest personal libraries in Rome. As we entered I inhaled and felt the sense of contentment that comes over me at the sight and aroma of papyrus and ink. Phineas got up from the table where he was working and greeted us.
“Your mother says you have something to show us,” I said.
“Yes, my lord.”
He picked up a scroll that I recognized as one of the 160 volumes of unpublished notes that my uncle compiled over the course of his life. The scrolls are written on the front and back in a minute hand, so the amount of material in them is the equivalent of well over 300 scrolls. But there is no order or system to them. The material was jotted down as my uncle and his scribes came across it. My uncle read voraciously. He had a scribe read to him as he traveled in a litter, while he was soaking in his bath, and while he was dining. Phineas is in charge of several scribes who are copying his notes and arranging the material on new scrolls by categories and writing in a larger hand, so they will be of more use to me.
“There’s a passage here, my lord, that suggests applying ice to a head injury, especially if there is any swelling. Your uncle cites an example of a soldier who was temporarily blind after a blow to the forehead until this treatment was used.”
“Ice?” I had heard of ice being applied to reduce a swelling but never to reverse blindness. How could the swelling be connected with the blindness?
“Yes, my lord. Your uncle was serving on the Rhine at the time. One of the German auxiliaries suggested the treatment.”
“Well, the Germans would certainly know about ice. They spend half their lives living in the stuff. I’ll send someone to Servilius Pudens’ house to fetch Democrites and we’ll see what he thinks.”
“While we’re waiting, my lord,” Phineas said, “may I discuss this square with you?”
“Certainly.” I turned to Aurora. “Why don’t you sit over here?”
“I’d like to go back and lie down, my lord.”
I was disappointed because I was eager to see what Phineas might have divined about the puzzle. “All right. I’ll take you.”
“I’d like to go by myself, my lord.”
“How—”
“I counted the number of steps we took coming here and the turns. I don’t want to always have to be led around.”
“Very well, if that’s what you want.”
She bumped against a table as she made her way to the door. I took a step toward her, but she held up a hand.
“I’ll be all right, my lord. Please don’t try to help me.”
Once she was through the door, she turned toward the garden, guiding herself by keeping one hand on the wall. As stealthily as I could, I followed her. As she came to the last turn before entering the garden, she stopped and turned around. “Gaius,” she said in a whisper, “stop following me. I have to do this on my own.”
I matched her whisper. “I’m sorry. It’s just that—”
She put a finger on my mouth. “Don’t say any more. You never know who’s listening.”
After that all I could do was hold my breath and watch as she made her way around the peristyle. Another servant woman offered to help her, but Aurora shook her head and kept moving forward. I felt like a father seeing his child take her first steps. If she succeeded, it would mean she could manage without me. I almost hoped she would run into something and fall so I could rush to her rescue.
* * *
Seven, eight, nine. There should be a corner here. Yes, here it is. I’ve got to do this by myself. I know Gaius is standing back there watching me, just waiting to come help. But, if I’m going to spend the rest of my life in the dark, I’ve got to be able to get around by myself. I don’t want someone leading me everywhere. I’ve seen blind people on the streets. They’ve figured it out.
Two, three, four. The first column should be…yes, here it is. It’s not hard from here. Five more columns.
* * *
Once Aurora had reached the room next to mine, I returned to the library. All Phineas could tell me was that he couldn’t tell me anything about the ROTAS square.
“I’ve rearranged the letters in every pattern I can imagine, my lord, but nothing makes sense. And AREPO? I’ve consulted your uncle’s lists of Umbrian, Oscan, and Etruscan words, but they contain nothing even remotely similar.”
“Have you noticed the relationship between the As, the Os, and the Ts?”
“What relationship, my lord?”
“Each T is flanked by an A and an O. And, when you draw a line connecting the Ts, you get a square within the square. That’s not true of any other letter in the puzzle.”
“Do you think that means anything, my lord?”
“I’m not sure, but don’t spend any more time on it for now.” I pushed the ROTAS papyri aside and picked up my uncle’s scroll. Apparently Phineas wasn’t aware of the Christian connotations of the square. “Let’s take another look at this ice business.”
Democrites arrived in less than an hour. When Phineas showed him the passage, his brow furrowed. “I doubt something that simple will help, sir. I have prepared an ointment to put on the girl’s eyes and was just waiting for a convenient time to apply it.” From the leather bag he was carrying he took a small clay jar with a stopper in it, sealed with wax.
“Meaning no disrespect to your skills, Democrites, but my uncle says he saw this work. I want to try it.” It seemed to me pointless to put something on Aurora’s eyes. She went blind when she struck her head.
Democrites obviously disagreed with me but could do no more than purse his lips tightly. “Very well, sir. There might not be much ice available in Rome at this time of year, though. What was brought down from the mountains in the spring has been pretty well used up, I imagine. Only the largest merchants will have stored enough to last this long.”
I don’t keep ice in my house. In the first place, it’s expensive just to haul it down from the mountains or to purchase it from someone who’s done the hauling. Even with the best packing, so much of it melts along the way. To keep it from melting while it’s stored requires a deep shaft of some sort, and lots of straw and blankets for packing.
People who use a lot of ice are, in my opinion, pretentious and just want to display their wealth. All the proof I need is that Regulus is very fond of using ice at his dinner parties, as was Nero. He used to boil water to remove the impurities and then put ice in it to make it drinkable. Since ice is just frozen, impure water, I’m not sure what he hoped to accomplish beyond showing that he could do it.
“A merchant we deal with keeps a supply,” I said. “I’ll send someone now.”
&
nbsp; I had no idea how much might be needed, so I asked Phineas to tell Demetrius to send two servants with some money, a large basket, and instructions to fill it.
As Phineas left the library, Democrites said, “While we’re waiting, sir, may I try my ointment?”
“Let’s go see the patient.”
My mother and Naomi were with Aurora, who was sitting on the bed. When Democrites and I entered the room, they stepped back and remained standing in the doorway.
I put a hand on Aurora’s shoulder. “The doctor wants to put an ointment on your eyes. Is that all right with you? Or would you rather wait for the ice to arrive?”
“I see no reason not to use the ointment, my lord. We shouldn’t ignore the advice of such an eminent physician, should we?”
Her comment seemed to mollify Democrites, who gave me a look that said, At least someone around here has some sense. He opened his jar and set about smearing a vile-smelling concoction over her eyes. With that step completed, he wrapped a bandage around her head.
“It has a bit of an…aroma to it,” my mother said from behind us.
“That’s often the nature of medicines,” Democrites said in a tone that one uses to dismiss the ignorant. “Are you comfortable, my dear?” he asked Aurora.
“It stings,” Aurora replied anxiously.
“That’s to be expected. It’s part of how the medicine works.”
Within moments Aurora had her hands to her face. “Ow! By the gods! It burns!”
Democrites pulled her hands away from the bandage. “Give it a few minutes.”
“Gaius…Pliny, my lord, it hurts!” Aurora cried, thrashing around on the bench.
Democrites, a small, slender Greek, held her arms down with difficulty. “Will you help me, sir? The ointment needs a few moments to take effect.”
I couldn’t stand to see Aurora in pain, but I know that sometimes discomfort is part of a treatment. Setting a broken leg hurts as much as breaking the bone. The pain in my rib made it difficult for me to move and before I could get a grip on her, my mother grabbed Democrites’ shoulders and flung him aside. I had to step back to avoid being knocked down.
“You fools! The girl is in pain.” She tore the bandage off Aurora’s face, revealing her red, puffy eyelids. “Oh, dear gods!” My mother took the pitcher of water on the table beside the bed and began washing Aurora’s face.
The Eyes of Aurora Page 23