Woman of Sin

by Debra Diaz

  Alysia was shaking as she turned to walk behind the thick curtain, relieved that this part of her ordeal was over…and yet apprehensive about what was still to come. She wondered what this man’s sister would be like, for she had a feeling that he, at least, was a person of considerable importance.

  * * * *

  Paulus Valerius made his way with as much patience as he could muster through the masses thronging the forum. Most people took one look at his uniform and scurried out of his way. The street was hot and smelly and he fervently wished himself elsewhere. He became aware that someone on foot had caught up with him and was keeping pace with his horse—an acquaintance of his, a lawyer named Tacitus.

  “What have you done, Paulus?” the lawyer said, with a knowing smile. “Too much spirit for a slave. I haven’t laughed so hard since that grandnephew of Tiberius’ was posturing about at the theater and fell backwards off the stage. You could just see his boots sticking up—gave a whole new meaning to his nickname! A pity it didn’t break his—well, never mind. Tell me, Legate, how are you going to tame so wild a creature?”

  “She belongs to my sister, and so I leave the taming to her,” Paulus answered lightly, though he felt a jab of uneasiness he didn’t show as he considered what the slave had done. Magnus was an idiot but his father had considerable influence. Not that Paulus’ own position didn’t carry as much authority—but there could still be trouble.

  Tacitus seemed to follow his thoughts. “I wouldn’t worry. After all, you are the city prefect.” He added slyly. “At the moment.”

  Paulus’ mouth quirked good-naturedly; it was a truth he’d come to terms with and was prepared to accept—for a season. The route he had traveled to arrive at his current position had not been the route of his choosing, and the story behind it was almost as complex and convoluted as the history of Rome.

  It was common to begin one’s career with military service, though it was usually a superficial form of service and only lasted until the man could gain a civilian position and begin to work his way up the political ladder. But Paulus actually liked the army. After spending a year as quaestor, during which he had many administrative duties that he found boring—not to mention constant exposure to the “give and take” practices inherent in politics which he found reprehensible—Paulus asked permission of the Senate to be allowed to return to the army and stay there.

  The Senate did not recall ever having been accosted by a man who had so little ambition as to prefer the battlefield over politics, and referred the matter to Tiberius. It so happened that, for several reasons, Tiberius held Paulus in great favor: first, Paulus’ mother was a good friend of Vipsania’s, the emperor’s first wife whom he’d been forced to divorce in order to make a more politically advantageous union with Augustus’ daughter, Julia (who had later, in fact, been banished from Rome by her own father for gross immorality); second, Paulus’ late father had been a close advisor to Augustus and an esteemed member of the Senate—things that once upon a time Tiberius had respected; and third, Paulus had once saved the emperor’s life.

  It was during one of Tiberius’ rare public appearances before his “retirement” to Capri, aimed to dispel rumors of his demise. Paulus had been appointed to oversee his personal bodyguards and during the procession observed a would-be assassin aiming an arrow at the oblivious and scowling sovereign. Acting swiftly, he managed to pull Tiberius out of his sedan just as the arrow thudded deeply into the chair’s back. After his initial fright, the emperor was overwrought with gratitude.

  Paulus’ request to return to the army was granted. (His father, incidentally, could never understand his son’s lack of interest in politics, and on the day he died had not recovered from his intense disappointment.) Paulus already had an outstanding military record, and now, to the chagrin of Aelius Sejanus, he began to exceed it.

  As a junior officer in one of the African provinces he distinguished himself during a minor revolt by taking over for one of the legates, who lost control of his bowels when he saw the painted warriors whooping in savage fury toward his ill-prepared troops; the horrified commander ran into a clump of bushes and paid a heavy toll for his moment of evisceration when a Numidian spear impaled his brain. The other officers were shouting in helpless terror when Paulus rallied the men and succeeded in driving the insurgents back, until the general and fresh troops arrived.

  He didn’t know himself where his courage and recklessness came from; he only knew that he felt doubly alive on the battlefield, that all his senses quickened, that he could think clearly when many others could not, and that in the midst of mortal combat his sword became like an extension of his own body.

  Although Aelius Sejanus expended mighty efforts to prevent it, Paulus’ successes again came to the attention of the emperor. Tiberius appointed him to the rank of legate and he was sent to quell rebellions in imperial provinces from Hispania to Palestine. His excellent use of strategy and his moderate treatment of the vanquished earned him a reputation that any general with political ambition would give his right arm to possess.

  It was at that point that Sejanus planted his large, splayed foot and permitted Paulus to go no further. The legate must not be advanced in rank; to do so, he told Tiberius with great solemnity, would be to invite disaster. Paulus made it no secret that he favored the Republic. If, with his great popularity, he decided to march on Rome and overthrow the monarchy, he might actually be successful. (No doubt many members of the Senate would think that an excellent idea, but of course none would have the courage to say so.) Sejanus could not easily dispose of the man when he was currently in the emperor’s favor—currently, because Tiberius did not long remain enamored of anyone. But until Paulus did something to displease him, Sejanus would have to bide his time.

  He managed to convince Tiberius that the legate should be kept in Rome where Sejanus could watch him. Tiberius saw the wisdom of this but wanted Paulus to be able to choose his new position, and offered him everything from second prefect of the Praetorian Guard to the governing of a province. Paulus refused them all and asserted as tactfully as he could that he did not wish to be involved in politics, wondering if and when Tiberius would lose patience and either force some position on him or chop off his head.

  At last Tiberius decided to make him prefect of engineers. Paulus had studied engineering before his marriage. His immediate improvements to the roads and bridges, as well as some inventive planning that eased the congestion on the Tiber River, infuriated Sejanus. He hinted to the emperor that Paulus was opening a way for rebel factions to get inside Rome.

  Tiberius scoffed at the idea, but after a few months of brooding on the matter allowed Sejanus to remove him from the office. “Put him over the police brigade,” Tiberius ordered glumly. “Temporarily of course. He ranks too high for it to be a permanent position. That will keep him too busy to think about anything else.”

  “But the city prefect—” Sejanus began.

  “Has enough to do without the police brigade!”

  “Well, at least it will keep him in Rome,” Sejanus replied. “No traveling about looking for opportunities to oppose you, Caesar.”

  “As you say,” Tiberius grumbled. “And I hope that is all I will hear from you about Paulus Valerius Maximus.” He said the full name slyly because he knew Paulus’ nickname, meaning greatest, irritated his chief counselor; indeed, the army always referred to the legate as “Maximus”.

  Sejanus was quiet, until the crime rate dropped significantly and there was order even in the poorest and most dangerous sections of the city. He waited until he knew Tiberius had one of his severe headaches and would be less likely to argue. “Caesar, the legate Paulus Valerius must be removed from his appointment. There are over four thousand men now in the police brigade. My spies say he meets with them regularly and has an unusual control over them.”

  But Sejanus had misjudged the emperor’s mood.

  “Of course he has control over them, idiot! He is their commander. In f
act, I want you to make him prefect of the city. I know he didn’t want that position but there are some things that need fixing.”

  Sejanus was horror-struck. “Sir, he will not accept such a political—“

  “I am telling you for the last time to hold your tongue or I will take great pleasure in pulling it out with my garden shears. I have never had any reason to suspect Paulus Valerius of any misdoing! He saved my life and has served Rome well. You are jealous of him, Aelius Sejanus. You should be. If he were more a cutthroat I would give him your position. I fear he is too honest to be of much use to me.”

  Sejanus fumed but did as he was told. Paulus then had oversight of not only the police brigade but stores, banks, theaters, and even some authority over the courts. He didn’t like his new appointment; it involved too much intercourse with politicians. Sejanus’ schemes had amused him for a while, but now Paulus was ready to return to his legion. Even though Tiberius had allowed him to retain his position and he still wore the uniform of a legate, it wasn’t the same as being in the field—and away from Rome. Some day soon he would have a talk with the emperor.

  “But as I was saying,” Tacitus went on, squinting up at the legate, “your stepbrother will no doubt have something to say about this slave’s assault on Magnus. You know, I suppose, that they are close friends.”

  “Lucius’ friendships are no concern of mine,” Paulus said, becoming impatient with the conversation. “The girl will be disciplined for what she did to Magnus Eustacius. Although, I am tempted to reward her.”

  Paulus stopped his horse for a moment and looked straight at the lawyer. “You can pass that around in your circles, Tacitus. I won’t hear any complaints on the matter. Good day to you.”

  Tacitus watched as the legate urged his horse forward and noticed how a passing group of soldiers stopped to salute and respectfully wait for him to pass. The lawyer hitched up his toga and had a fleeting thought that, for whatever reason Sejanus feared Paulus and kept moving him about like a pawn in some sort of game, it was probably wise to do so.

  CHAPTER II

  Even had she managed to concoct some plan of escape, it would have been impossible under the steely gaze of the two men who carried the heavily curtained litter. They wore tunics rather than uniforms; Alysia didn’t know if they were soldiers or part of the police brigade, or even slaves. Within, she sat on a hard cushion and braced herself against the constant jostling. It was hot; she pushed back a corner of the curtain and a welcome breeze rushed in to cool her, swirling her gown and hair.

  It seemed to take a long time; she heard the sounds of people rushing past, women talking, men yelling, dogs barking, the slap of sandaled feet against the fitted stones of the pavement—all the noise of city traffic. She could tell when they began ascending a hill. Peeking past the curtain she saw a long, tree-lined road, at the end of which stood a large house of brick and stucco with a red-tiled roof.

  She felt the men lower the litter to the ground. The curtain opened, but no one extended a hand to help her. Alysia got stiffly to her feet and glared at the men, but they only stared stoically back at her. Not wanting them to see how anxious she was, she didn’t hesitate but made her way to the small portico, with stone steps and four stone pillars. She was about to knock on the door when it opened unexpectedly. A man looked down at her in surprise, tall and swarthy with curly black hair and dark eyes that, in spite of his surprise, managed to convey a look of perpetual boredom.

  As he noticed her attire one eyebrow went up and a subtle smirk touched his handsome mouth. “What have we here?” he drawled, his eyes lazily taking in everything from her bare, chalk-whitened feet to her wind-tossed hair. She stood uncertainly and wondered how she was to address him, noticing that he wore the uniform of a military tribune.

  “I have just been purchased by the legate for his sister. I am to see Calista.”

  “Ah,” he said, without moving. “The new slave. Slaves use the side entrance.”

  She raised her chin and was about to turn when he gave a low laugh. “Wait. Just this once, we shall make an exception.”

  Still, he made no move to allow her to pass. Did he expect her to squeeze past him? Well, he could stand there staring all day as far as she was concerned. She was in no hurry! In fact, she would rather seek the other entrance, and was about to do so when a horse trotted up the drive. She turned to see the legate dismount easily, handing the reins to a slave. Alysia sensed the man next to her stiffen and draw back.

  “Hello, Paulus. I suppose you’ve come to look over your new—acquisition.”

  The legate replied with a chill in his voice that did not escape Alysia. “I’ve come to instruct Calista about the disposition of the slave before Selena returns tomorrow.”

  His words stabbed like a knife as the realization struck her that these men did not regard her as a person, but as a piece of property. She was the “acquisition”. She was “the slave”. They talked about her as if she weren’t there, as if she were a dumb animal!

  “I’m glad you’re here, Lucius,” the legate was saying. “You can tell Magnus Eustacius to keep his head. She’s my sister’s property and he would do well to stay away.”

  “What has Magnus to do with her?” the dark man asked.

  “You’ll know soon enough. I don’t anticipate any trouble from old man Eustacius, but Magnus is a fool. Come with me, Alysia.”

  Lucius was forced to step back as Paulus went through the doorway, leaving Alysia no choice but to follow him. “I suppose you mean an altercation of some sort. If she has insulted Magnus, the slave will have to answer for it,” he said, all traces of civility wiped from his face. “If you won’t see to it, Paulus—I will.”

  The legate turned to look at the other man. Alysia stood between them, and in the pause that followed, knew that something passed between the two men…something ugly and almost frightening. Then Paulus gave a slight shrug and said, “I won’t tell you how to be a good tribune, Lucius—and don’t tell me how to be a good master.”

  The scene froze for a moment, and then broke apart as the legate gestured for her to follow him. She tossed a glare over her shoulder at the scowling man as she hurried forward, and wondered at the look of unconcealed hatred on his face.

  * * * *

  “You’re pale,” the legate said unexpectedly. “Are you unwell?”

  Alysia could only marvel that he would ask such a question. He must have some idea of what she had experienced in the past weeks, and yet he thought it strange that she didn’t look well! It was on the edge of her tongue to give him some bitingly sarcastic reply, but the truth was she did feel extremely tired and ill. However, she would die before saying so.

  “I am perfectly well,” she answered, refusing to look at him.

  He paused, and then continued leading the way through the door into a short hall, his footsteps ringing on the mosaic-tiled floor. The interior of the house was dim and cool. They entered the large atrium, its walls covered in frescoes and extending to a great height. Marble columns supported the roof, and its open center poured sunlight into the brightly colored, rectangular pool below. An artfully draped statue bent over the pool, holding a marble vase. Grecian urns and large potted plants, reposing on ornate pedestals, occupied every corner except the one with a little table bearing images of the household gods. Chairs of citrus wood, tables inlaid with ivory, alcoves from which peered statues and busts, all filled her vision in the moments it took to follow the legate across the atrium.

  Other rooms were visible from here as well; all the curtains and latticed doors had been thrown open to allow the cooled air from the atrium to circulate throughout the house. From a turn of the passageway a petite, elegantly clad woman came toward them. Her stola flowed about her, accented by the brilliant jewels adorning her neck, wrists and ears. Her blonde hair was arranged with three rows of braids at the crown of her head, with the rest braided and piled on top, and it too was interspersed with jewels.

  “Paulus
, dear!” she exclaimed.

  “Hello, Mother.” The legate bent to kiss the woman on the cheek.

  Antonia Pulchra smiled at him with affection, and then glanced at Alysia, cutting her eyes back toward her son with a raised eyebrow. “Who is that?”

  “Her name is Alysia. She’s Selena’s new handmaid.”

  “Did you get her? Where is she from?”

  He answered his mother’s questions while Alysia stood motionless, forgetting to feel resentful as a strange sensation of warmth began to spread over her body; her head began to swim and she took a deep breath. She hadn’t been able to eat much that morning, in spite of the fact that she’d been ravenously hungry for weeks.

  Antonia looked sideways at the slave, privately judging her too thin and pale, though most slaves looked like that when they first arrived. But her eyes were exquisite, blue-violet in color and almost startling against the blackness of her hair. The girl’s face wouldn’t be considered perfect by Roman standards, for it was elliptical in shape and her features were slim and finely molded. Round and plump faces were the favored look these days. And generous noses were preferred over slim ones.

  Antonia was nothing if not a woman of fashion. Since it wasn’t fashionable to remain unmarried, she had recently acquired her third husband, Decius Aquilinus, who had lost his own wife when a drunken slave drove her coach over a cliff. (Paulus’ father had died while giving a particularly heated address in the Senate, and Antonia’s second husband had languished with a lung ailment before dying six months ago.) She’d also acquired a stepson whom she did not like; he was a tribune and spent his days idling about and doing the gods knew what—she only knew he made much of his title and did little, if anything, to earn it. He’d been appointed by Sejanus and served in some sort of administrative role; oh dear, everything was so irregular these days!