The Eyes of Aurora

by Albert A. Bell, Jr.

  The cloth must have been soaked in something that put me to sleep. I don’t remember being hit, but I know I’ve been unconscious. Probably better to be still, not let them know I’m awake. Work on getting my hands free. That could give me an advantage, whatever’s going to happen.

  XVII

  Rounding up the first half dozen of my male servants I could find, Tacitus and I forced our way through the bath-going throngs in the streets until we got to the livery stable outside the gate on the Ostian Way.

  “I need horses,” I told the owner, catching my breath. “All you have. Right now.”

  “This late in the day I have only two, sir,” the man said.

  I slapped money on the table in front of him. “Give them to me.”

  “It’ll take a few moments to get them ready.”

  I slapped more money on the table. “I don’t have time. Get them now.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  While the owner scrambled to bring the horses to us, I told my servants to find whatever transportation they could and follow us as soon as possible. One of the men had been with us when we went out to Tabellius’ house before. “He knows the way,” I told the others.

  As I might have suspected, the two horses we got were the only two left because they were broken-down nags. No amount of urging on our part could get them to move faster than a trot, as though we were out riding for pleasure.

  Giving up my effort to coax any more speed out of my mount, I said, “I don’t understand what she’s doing. It makes no sense.”

  “I agree,” Tacitus said. “Right now she’s not at all rational. I think she actually has feelings for you, and you know how women are when their feelings take over.”

  “Feelings? For me? What—”

  Tacitus turned partway to face me. “I’m talking about Livilla. Aren’t you?”

  “No. The only feeling Livilla could have for me is contempt.”

  “You underestimate her, Gaius Pliny. She’s a high-minded young woman. She knows what the loss of Aurora would mean to you, so she’s trying to prevent it.”

  “But she could get herself killed.”

  “I don’t think that matters to her as much as insuring your happiness. Or perhaps she knows she’s not going to be happy without you, so it’s a sacrifice she’s willing to make. That’s the way a Roman wife would think.”

  I fell silent as Tacitus’ words made me see Livilla in an entirely new light. What sort of bravery lurked beneath that shy exterior? Contrary to what Domitian believed, apparently there was at least one other person in Rome whose actions were based on some motive other than self-interest.

  When we reached Marinthus’ taberna a group of men were gathered in front, next to a small wagon, talking earnestly. Theodorus was in the center of the group. I intended to ride on past them, but one of them raised a hand and called my name.

  I stopped long enough to ask, “How do you know me? I have no time to talk to you.”

  He approached my horse. “But, sir, I’m Eustasius, one of Crispina’s men. I know you because I’ve been watching your house for several days. I helped kidnap your servant woman, Aurora.”

  My immediate instinct was to pull out my sword and run him through, but he was honest enough to admit who he was. He might be of some help to us. “Get up behind me!” I ordered him. He took my hand and I pulled him up onto my horse.

  “They’re at Tabellius’ villa,” Eustasius said. “But I gather you already know that.”

  “Tell me everything you know,” I said as I kicked the nag back into motion. “Tell me fast and I might let you live. Start with when Crispina left my house.”

  “Well, sir, she stayed in Rome. She was waiting for her steward to bring her the money she expected to get from selling her farm.”

  “So she planned to sell it all along.”

  “Yes, sir. She was going to leave Italy. She knew she couldn’t go back to her farm after…everything that’s happened.”

  “After what she did to Fabia, you mean. What you helped her do to Fabia.”

  “Yes, sir. To my everlasting shame. I hope I can make up for that to some small degree.”

  “You can’t give her back her life, or the life of her child.”

  “Her…child? What are you talking about, sir? We didn’t kill any child. No one could make me do that, no matter what they threatened me with.”

  “Fabia was pregnant. Didn’t Crispina bother to mention that?”

  “By the gods, sir, no.” He fell silent. When he spoke again, his voice was subdued. “So that’s why she stabbed her.”

  “Yes, three times.”

  “We did even worse than we knew. I’ve thought about little else since then.” Eustasius’ voice carried what sounded like genuine remorse, but over the last few days I’d learned not to trust anyone.

  “Why did she stay within sight of my house, where I might have seen her?”

  “She wanted to keep an eye on that girl of yours, Aurora. That was all she could talk about.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. “Why did she care about her?”

  “She said we could kidnap her and get a big ransom.”

  “Why did she think I would pay a big ransom for a slave?”

  “She thought Aurora was more than just a slave to you, sir. She had seen the way you looked at one another.”

  “A look doesn’t mean—”

  “This pretense is getting tiresome, Gaius Pliny,” Tacitus said. “The fact that we’re here proves she’s right.”

  I wouldn’t argue with him in front of another person’s servant. “How did you capture her? She would have put up a fight.”

  “Crispina had bought a potion. We put it on a cloth and clamped it over the girl’s mouth.”

  I had heard of such sleep-inducing drugs, usually drawn from the poppy plant. I didn’t know how fast they could work. “What has she done to her?” I demanded.

  “Nothing yet, but she’s going to.”

  “I won’t pay a ransom if anything happens to her.”

  “She’s not after a ransom, sir. That was just a trick to get us to go along with her. She knew we were all sickened by what she made us do to Fabia.”

  “How did she ‘make’ you rape a woman?” Tacitus asked.

  “When one of your friends has a sword at his throat, sir, you’ll do most anything to save his life. Besides, Fabia hadn’t ever done anything to endear herself to any of us.”

  “That defense would never stand up in court,” Tacitus said. “Being obnoxious isn’t against the law.”

  “If she doesn’t want ransom,” I said, “what does she want now?”

  His hesitation told me as much as his words when he finally said, “She plans to kill her, sir, just like she did poor Fabia. She says the only part of Aurora you’ll get back will be her head.”

  I kicked my horse’s sides again. The beast whinnied in protest. Another kick produced slightly more speed. “So she’s taken Aurora to that second garden in Tabellius’s villa.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And why did she send that message to Livilla?”

  “She wants the lady Livilla to see it. She thinks Aurora came between you and the lady, just like Fabia came between her and Popilius. She believes the lady will be glad to see Aurora dead. Maybe even pay her something.”

  “The woman is mad,” Tacitus said. “Absolutely mad.”

  “That’s what we finally realized,” Eustasius said. “Me and the others that were helping her. We tried to talk her out of hurting anybody else—said we wanted no more part in it—but she killed one of us. We had no idea she had a knife on her until she stabbed him. Two others and me managed to get away.”

  “She couldn’t chase all three of you, eh?” Tacitus said.

  “No, sir, and I was the fastest runner. I heard one other scream before I got into the wagon and out of her reach entirely. I never looked back.”

  So much for loyalty to friends, I thought. “Does she
have anyone with her now?”

  “As far as I know, only the man who drove the raeda and her ­steward.”

  “Will they fight for her?” Tacitus asked.

  “The driver, probably, but not her steward. He’d need a spine to be able to fight.”

  *

  We pulled up within sight of Tabellius’ villa. As Eustasius started to slip off the horse, I slammed my elbow into his face. He groaned once and fell to the ground.

  Tacitus jumped off his horse. “Gaius Pliny, what—”

  “It’s far less than he deserves.” I dismounted and tied my horse to a tree. “And I don’t trust him at all. Remember what little Clodius said: ‘I don’t like him. He’s mean.’ ”

  “He could be an ally,” Tacitus said. “We could outnumber them.”

  “How do we know he’s not still in league with Crispina? Except for the part about watching my house, his whole story could be a lie. We’ve been lied to and duped from the first day of this…this misadventure. I don’t want to go in there with someone behind me that I don’t trust. Or someone who would desert us at the first sign of trouble. Help me gag him and tie him up.” I cut pieces off the blanket I’d been riding on and handed them to Tacitus. “Hurry up!”

  With Eustasius trussed up, we made a cautious approach to the villa. The raeda with its team of horses was tied up in front of the crumbling house.

  “Segetius showed me a way to get under the rear wall,” I whispered to Tacitus. “Since I’m smaller, I’ll take that. You enter the front door. Neither of us is to do anything until we’ve seen the other one in place.”

  Segetius had told me about, but not actually showed me, the spot that animals had created under the wall. Fortunately, it was easy to find. I lay on my back and wriggled under it, emerging behind the concealment of some bushes and a shed. When I had righted myself and peeked around the corner of the shed, I nearly gasped out loud.

  Aurora, stripped naked and gagged, was tied to the whipping post.

  Crispina stood in front of Aurora, axe in hand. I’d expected her to look mad—frenetic, twitching, hair disheveled—but she appeared as calm and composed as a Vestal Virgin, almost majestic. What I hadn’t realized when I saw her in my house was that she was a fair-sized woman, hardened from working on a farm. She had somehow made herself seem frail, beaten-down, when I was talking to her earlier. All part of her act, like Odysseus disguising himself in the swineherd’s hut. He had a goddess’s help then; I wondered what demon was aiding Crispina—one inside her, I suspected.

  Between the post and the front part of the house stood one of Crispina’s men, with a sword. Tacitus would have to deal with him. Off to one side sat a wizened man with a wooden chest in front of him and a look of panic on his face. His primary purpose in life at the moment seemed to be making himself as small as possible.

  That must be the steward, I thought. He won’t put up a fight. At least Eustasius was right about that.

  The most amazing sight, though, was Livilla standing on the other side of Aurora, looking smaller and more vulnerable than ever against Crispina.

  “Please, don’t hurt her,” Livilla pleaded.

  “But she’s going to take your beloved Gaius Pliny away from you,” Crispina said, in a voice that revealed the madness concealed by her calm demeanor. “When we were together at Marinthus’ taberna, she kept talking about how sad it made her to think of Pliny marrying you.”

  Aurora shook her head and I could hear her trying to say something through the gag.

  “That may be the way she feels,” Livilla said, “but she’s not the reason I ended my engagement to Gaius. I just decided that I don’t love him and don’t want to marry him.”

  From the widening of her eyes, I knew that Aurora had seen me, so I signaled to her to make no sign. Noting the top of Tacitus’ head in his hiding place on the other side of the garden, I ducked back a bit.

  Crispina lowered the axe. “Now, child, I saw you come out of his library in tears a few nights ago.”

  “But that’s when I told him I wasn’t going to marry him. It has nothing to do with her.” She jerked a thumb toward Aurora. It was interesting to see how well the woman who was almost my wife could lie.

  “But it’s obvious,” Crispina said, “how much Pliny loves Aurora. And she was in there with him when you arrived. I saw it all. I just wish I could strap the whore to the wheel, like she deserves, but that self-righteous prig Pliny must have destroyed it.”

  “Actually, Popilius did that,” I said, stepping out from concealment with my sword drawn.

  “You!” Crispina cried. “Oh, but this makes it all the better.”

  She drew the axe back and swung at Aurora with all her might.

  I couldn’t believe what I saw as I ran screaming across the garden. Livilla lunged at Crispina and, even as small as she was, hit the larger woman hard enough to knock her off balance. Aurora managed to turn her head just enough to escape the blow. The axe lodged in the post with a horrendous thunk. If it had hit Aurora, it would have split her face in half.

  Crispina cursed in frustration as she tried to pull the axe out of the wood. Before she could loosen it, I tackled her and threw her to the ground. As I tried to get control of her, she swung her arms and thrashed her feet. Livilla tried to grab her feet but got kicked in the stomach. I finally hit Crispina on the jaw, stunning her enough that I could get her turned over and clasp her hands behind her back.

  “Find something to tie her up with!” I cried.

  I heard the sounds of a struggle and the clanging of sword on sword from the front of the garden, then a groan. When I could spare a glance, I saw Tacitus standing over Crispina’s servant, wiping his blade on the man’s tunic. The whimpering noise I was hearing emanated from Crispina’s steward, cringing in his corner.

  “Here,” Livilla said, “use this.” She handed me a piece of rope.

  By the time I got Crispina’s hands tied, Livilla had untied the ropes that bound Aurora’s feet to the post. I could never have imagined her being this fearless. I took out my blade and cut the ropes holding Aurora’s hands. The axe had cut through some of her hair on its way into the post and nicked her ear. I pulled the gag out of her mouth and she collapsed into my arms in tears and loud sobs. The blood from the cut on her ear stained the shoulder of my tunic.

  Livilla found Aurora’s tunic, which had been cut off her, and handed it to me. I wrapped it around Aurora as best I could.

  “Thank you,” I said to Livilla over Aurora’s shoulder. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  She shook her head. “It’s all right. You don’t have to say anything.”

  Crispina moaned and rolled over onto her back. I handed Livilla my sword. “Hold this on her. Don’t let her move.”

  Wriggling over to the post like a turtle trying to right itself, Crispina worked her way to a standing position. “You see which one of you he’s holding, don’t you?” she said to Livilla. “For him it will always be Aurora.”

  “Gaius said for you not to move,” Livilla said. “Be still.”

  “How are you going to stop me? You don’t have the courage, you sniveling little—”

  “That’s enough!” I said, one arm still around Aurora.

  With both hands Livilla held my sword out in front of her, as though she didn’t want the thing too close to her own body.

  “I don’t understand why you did this,” I told Crispina. “What did you think you would gain by killing Aurora?”

  “I would gain the satisfaction of knowing that another husband-stealing slut had gotten what she deserved.”

  “But Aurora isn’t Fabia.” I wasn’t sure that fact was at all clear in Crispina’s mind. In her rage she had somehow blended the two women into one.

  “Even when you were with me in the taberna,” Aurora said, “when I thought I was helping you, you already had your plan worked out to kill Fabia, didn’t you?”

  “Of course, you naïve little do-gooder. My men found t
hem in Ostia, waiting for a ship. I knew if they got even a glimpse of me, they would panic, so I waited at the taberna until everything was ready. But I had to listen to your constant whining about Pliny, Pliny, Pliny.”

  Aurora turned to me. “I don’t think I mentioned your name more than twice, my lord.”

  “It was the way you said it,” Crispina cut in. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” she shot at Livilla.

  “And so you came to my house,” I said, “to—”

  “I came to your house because I needed a safe place to leave Clodius. Once my property was sold, I planned to get as far away from Italy as I could. I had no time for a little traveling companion. I saw Nonnius and Marcella come to your house, so I guess you know the boy isn’t really my son.”

  “Yes, but he’s with them now. I think he’ll be all right.”

  “I hope so. He is a sweet lad.”

  “Once you had dropped off Clodius, why didn’t you just leave Rome?” Aurora asked.

  “My property hadn’t sold yet, and while I was in your house I saw the two of you together and I thought, ‘She’s no different than Fabia. She deserves what Fabia got.’ I rented rooms near your house and waited for my opportunity.”

  I drew Aurora closer to me, still unnerved by how close I had come to losing her.

  “One thing doesn’t seem to fit in this mad scheme at all,” I said. “Why did you concoct the story about Popilius being chosen to kill…a king?” I couldn’t bring myself to use Domitian’s name. Who knew who might be listening?

  “It gave me something to frighten him with. Popilius is a craven coward. That’s why he likes little girls. They’re no threat to him.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “You knew?”

  “Of course I knew.”

  “So you used little Fabia like bait.”

  “When Popilius came to see me, to pay his respects after Fabius’ death, I made sure she was there, as prettied up as a little girl could be. He wanted to hug her—to console her—and I told her it was all right. She ended up sitting in his lap.”