Aurora responded to my summons and stood before Livia with her head down and her hands, still shaking slightly, clasped in front of her, an appropriate servile posture, but she also seemed to be grasping her belly. I stood off to one side and slightly behind her.
“Where is your knife?” Livia demanded, sitting up in her bed.
“My knife, my lady? What—”
“Don’t try to put me off. Show me that damn knife.”
“But, my lady—”
“Take off your gown!”
I stepped up beside Aurora. “You’re going too far, Livia. Why would I let a servant of mine carry a knife? She could be severely punished for doing that.”
“I know, and I intend to see that she is.” She glared at Aurora again. “I said, take off your gown.”
I started to protest this humiliation again, but Aurora said, “Yes, my lady.” She unpinned her gown at the shoulders and let it drop to the floor, grimacing and putting a hand on her belly as she did so. I never thought I would turn away from the sight of Aurora nude, but at that moment I couldn’t bring myself to look at her. Before I lowered my head I did notice a bruise at her waist, from Aurelius’ elbow I was sure.
“Where is it?” Livia said. “Where have you hidden it? Did you stick it up your ass? I’m sure Gaius wouldn’t do something like that to you. Some men, though, turn you over and mount you like a filthy catamite. No woman should have to endure that. Why are you making those faces? Turn around!”
Aurora groaned. “My lady—”
“Livia, dear,” I said, “you were panic-stricken. The only light in the cave was from the fire. Perhaps you’ve gotten things mixed up. Now just lie back and rest a bit longer.” I nodded to Aurora, who picked up her gown, fastened the pins, and left the room without looking at me.
“I will not have her under the same roof with me, Gaius. Not ever again,” Livia snarled. “I know what I saw, and I know that you…you love her.” She half sobbed. “You’ve always loved her.”
“Livia—”
“It’s so obvious even that damn villain in the cave could see it. I want you to send her away. No, as your wife I demand that you send her away.”
I couldn’t shout at her, the way I wanted to, for fear that someone outside would hear me, as I was sure they could hear her, so I stood over her bed and shook my fist at her. “No. I’m sick and tired of your demands. I have married her to someone, as you demanded. That’s as far as I will go. She has been a member of my household since we were children. I will never admit it to anyone outside this room, but she saved your life, by putting her own life in danger. It was her plan, not mine. She could have let him kill you, you know.”
Livia drew back, as though afraid I actually would hit her. Her lip curled. “Wouldn’t that have worked just fine for the two of you?”
I turned to leave and said over my shoulder, “I won’t even dignify that with a response. She saved your life, Livia. Don’t you ever forget it.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll never let me forget it.”
XII
The less we deserve good fortune, the more we hope for it.
—Seneca
I was sitting on the ground beside a small pond behind Eustachius’ house. The water was warm because of a hot spring that flowed into it, his wife, Nicera, had told me. I had my feet in the water when Gaius found me. He sat down, but not as close as I wished he would. I knew he couldn’t, even though no one could see us back here. Because the ground around the quarry was so rocky, few trees grew, but a row of bushes ran along this side of the pond.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I asked him. “With Livia on a rampage, you’re taking a big risk even speaking to me.”
Tossing a pebble into the water, he said, without looking at me, “I’m sorry. She shouldn’t have humiliated you like that.”
“It’s not the worst thing that ever happened to a slave.”
Gaius cringed, the way I see him do every time he hears that word in connection with me. “Please don’t think of yourself that way.”
I studied the ripples the pebble made and reminded myself that, after any disturbance, calm does return. “How else can I think of myself? It’s what I am, what I have been almost all my life.”
“I’ve told you I would free you, any time you say you want me to.”
“And I’ve told you that’s not necessary. I want to belong to you. This is the only way I can.”
He sat silently for a moment, then asked, “What did you do with your knife?”
“I gave it to Tacitus. He’ll give it back to me when Livia’s not around.”
“It would be safer if he kept it or gave it to me for a while.”
“All right, if that’s what you want.”
“You’ll get it back,” he added quickly. “I promise that.” He finally looked at me. “What made you think to give it to Tacitus?”
“I knew you would have to deny that I killed that man, so I thought it would be better if I wasn’t carrying a weapon. Someone might think to search me.”
“Thank you for…what you did.”
“You can’t even say ‘for saving her life,’ can you?”
“Apparently not. Why did you do it?” He tossed another pebble, a bigger one that hit the water with an audible plop.
“What else could I do?” I ached to call him by his name, but I couldn’t risk being heard, and I didn’t want to call him my lord. “Surely you wouldn’t want me to let her die.”
“No…of course not.” He didn’t say it quickly enough. “It was a brilliant plan.”
I shrugged. “It worked at the battle of Cannae, so I thought it was worth a try.”
“Cannae? Hannibal?”
Even when we were children, doing our lessons together, Gaius was more interested in oratory and poetry than in history. He even wrote a Greek tragedy. Suppressing my laughter as we read it together was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. I, on the other hand, cherished every word I could read about Hannibal and even imagined him to be one of my ancestors. “Yes. Hannibal had his Numidian auxiliaries pretend to surrender. You Romans foolishly accepted them and put them behind your lines.”
“Oh, right. And at a crucial moment they fell on the legions and slaughtered them.”
“The worst defeat in Roman history.” I tried to suppress the tinge of pride that I felt. “Obviously Publius Aurelius never heard about it.”
“A serious deficiency in his education, but lucky for us.”
We sat quietly for a moment and the last of the fear I had felt in the cave seemed to drain out of me, to be replaced by a new worry. “Are you going to send me away, like she wants?”
“You heard her?”
I managed a little smile. “I think everyone between here and the Alps heard her. You were much quieter, like you are when we make love. So, are you going to do what she ordered you to?”
“‘Ordered’ isn’t the term I would use. She gave me a choice.”
I drew my knees up and wrapped my arms around them, trying to ignore the cramping in my belly. “You’re playing word games with me. That frightens me. Does it mean you’re going to send me away?”
“No. I would never do that.”
“But she said she wouldn’t stay in the same house with me.” I felt myself close to tears.
Gaius took a deep breath. I wasn’t sure what he was going to say, and I could hardly believe the words when I heard them. “Then obviously she’ll have to find somewhere else to live, won’t she? She has several estates to choose from.”
“Will she have to live with her mother? The woman can’t stand to be around her mother.” I wiped my eyes as memories of my own mother welled up.
“She once said that Pompeia had told her she wished Livia had never been born. How can a mother talk to her own child like that?”
“Giving birth doesn’t make a woman a good mother. What do you think Livia will do?”
“Liburnius left her a nice place in Um
bria. Her mother has no control over that one.” Gaius flipped another pebble into the pond and turned to face me. “But don’t worry about her. Are you all right? You keep grimacing and holding your belly.”
“Still shaken, but all right, I think. I’ve never experienced a feeling like that—a wave of such…anger and fear.” I straightened my legs as the pain in my belly eased. I didn’t want him to know how much I hurt.
Gaius took out the money pouch I had found on the dead man. It jingled as he hefted it.
“You look like the commander who’s taken loot in a battle,” I said.
“Plucked off the dead body of a vanquished enemy. I haven’t counted it yet, but there’s quite a bit in here, all gold. I think I’ll split half of it among you, Brennus, and Grillus—good commanders should divide the loot among their loyal troops—and give the other half to Procne. That might begin to compensate her for losing her finger.”
“Won’t people wonder why you gave some to me, if I didn’t kill that man?”
“You led us to the cave. We couldn’t have found it and rescued Livia without you. I can truthfully tell people that much.”
* * *
It took some doing, but I persuaded Livia to stay overnight, mostly for Procne’s sake. That gave me a chance to send a messenger to my villa, letting my mother and Pompeia know that Livia was safe. I assumed they had returned from Pompeius’ house by now. Because I was concerned about Aurora, I asked Julia to come down and bring Felix. I said she had been injured in the struggle to rescue Livia. I knew I couldn’t ask my mother to come down here, but I felt another woman should be here. Nicera gave Livia and Procne something to drink which, she said, would let them sleep through the night.
Tacitus and I were given a room with two beds to share for the night. Brennus was put in with Eustachius’ slaves, and Aurora was given a room by herself, since, Nicera said, there was no space in the quarters their two female slaves shared. I could see in her eye that she knew where I would actually be spending the night, and she did not object. I suspected she had made certain Livia got a good dose of the sleeping potion.
Our hostess left us some scented oil and enough water in a basin in our room for us to clean up minimally. While we waited for everyone to get to sleep, Tacitus and I talked about what had proved to be an eventful day.
“So you’ll pay a heavy price either way,” he summed up as he settled back on one of the beds. “If you don’t divorce Livia, you’ll have her as your wife for who knows how long.”
“I’m sure she’ll outlive me, just for spite.”
“On the other hand, if you divorce her, it’ll cost you dearly.”
“It’s more than just the money.” I stretched out on the other bed, with my hands behind my head. “She would make a scandal—spread gossip—that would leave my mother unable to face anyone. And I’m afraid of what she might do to Aurora.”
Tacitus sat up. “Do you think she would harm her?”
“I’m afraid she might try to do something, even if we stay married. She does not tolerate rivals. Remember what she did to her first husband’s…catamite.” I wondered if knowing that she was not loved by her mother had made Livia incapable of loving anyone else.
“That’s right. Sold him to work in the mines, didn’t she?”
“And was proud of what she’d done. I’ll bet the poor bastard’s dead by now.”
“Or wishes he was,” Tacitus said. “But surely she wouldn’t attack Aurora directly. She must know what your reaction would be.”
“She could arrange for an ‘accident,’ though, like the fall in the bath that killed Liburnius.”
Tacitus trimmed the wick of one of the oil lamps on the table between the two beds. “I hate to even ask this, Gaius, but do you think she might try to harm you?”
“That’s entirely possible, Even if she lives somewhere else, I feel like I’m going to have to constantly be on guard. She could suborn one of my slaves.… Oh, that’s enough. Let’s talk about something else.”
“Right. I assume we’re going to Comum tomorrow to talk with Lutulla about her involvement in this whole scheme.”
“Somebody at her taberna heard us talking,” I said, “when we had lunch with Romatius. It all goes back to that. She must be involved, though I don’t think she’s behind it all. We do have to see what she knows.”
“But you have other plans for tonight, don’t you?” Tacitus smiled broadly. “And you’re eager to put them in action.”
“I think it’s about time.” I opened the door and peeked out. Eustachius’ house was one of several buildings surrounding a well, almost like a small town built around a forum. Everything—including the stable—was made of stone, with thatched roofs. Moonlight, in a clear sky, reflected off the walls and made it so easy to see that it felt almost like daytime, especially for me, since my eyes are more comfortable in dim light. The neigh of a restless horse came through the open stable door, but no one was stirring.
“Don’t forget this,” Tacitus said, handing me Aurora’s knife in its sheath. There were still traces of blood on it. “I tried to clean it up some more, but blood is damned hard to get rid of. She may have to soak it when we get home.”
“Should I give it back to her?”
Tacitus nodded. “Definitely. Her having it was what saved us today. I don’t think I’ll ever get that scene in the cave out of my mind. She didn’t hesitate, did she?” He made two thrusts, imitating what Aurora had done. “I tell you, my friend, once you’ve seen a woman kill a man, it’s hard to look at her in quite the same way again.”
Staying close to the wall of the house, I came to Aurora’s door and knocked—two quick knocks, a pause, and a third knock, our signal. She opened the door and I slipped inside. I took her in my arms and kissed her, but then she pulled away.
“I don’t mean to dampen your enthusiasm,” she said, “but I’ve got some cramps in my belly. It might help me if I could soak in the warm water in that pool behind the house.”
“Cramps? Are you ill?”
“No, I feel all right except for the discomfort in my belly. I just want to soak in some warm water and see if that helps. Nicera gave me some extra oil so we can bathe.” She kissed me on the cheek.
I laid her knife on the bed.
“Thank you, Gaius,” she said. “Thank you for trusting me.”
We crept around the edge of the main building and made our way to the pond. With the cooler night air settling in from the mountains around us, a slight mist rose from the water’s surface. Aurora didn’t hesitate. She took off her gown and waded into the water, bending over to splash some on herself.
“Come on,” she said quietly. “It feels wonderful.”
I laid my tunic beside her gown and entered the water. It quickly came up to our waists, and we knelt down, as we would in a public bath, to immerse ourselves. She ran her hands over my chest and I couldn’t erase the image of those hands killing a man.
“Are you feeling better?” I asked her.
“Not really.” She groaned. “Something’s…wrong. Hold me, Gaius!”
As I put my arms around her, she bent double and blood began to flow from between her legs.
* * *
The next morning Livia said she and Procne felt well enough to travel, so Eustachius hitched a pair of horses to one of his smaller wagons. I couldn’t help but marvel at how deftly he did the job with only one hand. Grillus and two of Eustachius’ men would ride along as guards. I sent a note with Grillus telling my steward, Decimus, to put Eustachius and his men up overnight and to feed them well.
I didn’t even try to suggest that they take Aurora with them. She was in no condition to travel and, if Livia didn’t want her under the same roof with her, she certainly wouldn’t have her riding in the same wagon. I just wanted Livia out of sight so I could check on Aurora, who was being tended to by Nicera.
“I’ll see you when we get back tomorrow,” I said, standing beside the wagon. Livia sat on the seat w
ith Eustachius—but as far away from him as possible—while Procne lay on some blankets in the back.
“I doubt that you will,” Livia replied.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve decided I’m going to Tertia’s house as soon as I can get my things packed. From there I’m not sure where I’ll go, probably to Umbria. I’ll let you know.”
“Livia, it doesn’t have to be this way.” I looked up at her and tried to take her hand, but she pulled away.
“I don’t see how it can be any other way, Gaius, if you won’t…”
Jerking her head back in the direction of the house where Aurora was, she paused to give me one more chance to accede to a demand which I could not, and would not ever, meet.
“Once you’ve gotten over this shock,” I said, “we can talk more calmly.”
“I doubt I’ll ever get over it, and I don’t think we have anything to talk about.” She drew her cloak more tightly around her, as though protecting herself from me. “I will not divorce you or consent to you divorcing me, but I’ve told you what has to happen if you expect me to live with you as your wife. Is your answer any different than it was yesterday?”
“No.”
I wondered what price I would pay for uttering that simple but powerful word. The divorce itself wouldn’t be hard to obtain, even if Livia objected. Money was the issue. Livia’s dowry had been large and, as any man of foresight in my class does, I was keeping it in a separate account so it would be readily available in case of a divorce. The courts are adamant about an ex-wife getting her dowry back. But, if I initiated the divorce, there would also be a substantial penalty based on the size of the dowry. I would have to sell at least one of my estates to pay that penalty.
“No,” I repeated more decisively, stepping away from the wagon. “My answer is no different. And it never will be.”
Dry-eyed, Livia turned to Eustachius. “Let’s go. We want to get there before dark.”
* * *
Tacitus and I had planned to leave at dawn to ride to Comum and see Lutulla, but I wasn’t going anywhere until I knew Aurora was out of danger. Nicera had explained to me what happened.
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