Claudia, Wife of Pontius Pilate

by Taylor, Diana Wallis

  “I thought my grandfather didn’t know I existed.”

  “He had eyes and ears everywhere, as does Tiberius. He knew when you were born. It was Julia he was angry with.”

  They continued walking the long hall. “Did he know who my father was?”

  He halted his steps again. “Why do you ask?”

  “There was one my mother spoke of occasionally, but he was sent away. The African coast I think.”

  “Sent away?” He paused a moment. “Ah, Gracchus. He was fortunate only to be exiled these many years. The others were forced to commit suicide.” At her quick intake of breath, he laughed. “Have you been told he is your father?”

  She lowered her eyes. “I suspected, because of some things my mother said, but I don’t know.”

  “Waste no more time on that foolish imagination of yours. Gracchus is dead.”

  Claudia felt like someone had suddenly punched her in the stomach. “He is dead?”

  “The emperor received word that the noble centurion has died. A disease of some kind. Come, we are almost there.”

  As Claudia entered with Sejanus, she was aware of eyes suddenly turned on her.

  Six people, as well as the emperor, were arranged around the huge dining table set with graceful glassware. Claudia was led to a covered chair near Tiberius. The women did not recline as did the men. Tiberius waved a hand in the air magnanimously.

  “Ah, my esteemed guests, here is Claudia, the granddaughter of Augustus. Since she has no living male relative, I have claimed paterfamilias over her. She will be as my own daughter.”

  She wanted to run but remembered her grandmother’s words to act like the granddaughter of an emperor. She smiled shyly at the guests and sank down on her chair.

  “She is lovely.”

  “Julia’s child . . .”

  She felt the men’s open appraisal and glanced around at the women. They smiled graciously, but their eyes were more guarded.

  Fighting the anger that rose up once more, she vowed that while she had no choice over her life now, one day she would be free and live far from the emperor.

  Tiberius introduced his guests—Apicata, the wife of Sejanus; Levilla, the emperor’s widowed daughter-in-law; and two senators and their wives. She couldn’t remember all their names so merely nodded her head in acknowledgment. There was one empty chair and she realized that they were waiting for one more female guest.

  Suddenly a woman swept into the room, elegantly dressed, her chin uplifted, her manner arrogant. She was slender and had kept herself well, but her face betrayed her age. Deep lines had formed on either side of her mouth. It was evident she smiled little. She was an old woman, but somehow important, for Tiberius merely growled, “You are late, Livia.”

  Claudia’s eyes widened. This was the stepmother who had made her mother’s life miserable as a child.

  “Nonsense, Tiberius,” Livia murmured. “An empress is never late.”

  He did not respond but glared at her and nodded toward Claudia. “Your charge, madam.”

  Bearing the perusal of the empress with patience, Claudia waited for her response. The empress gave a slight shrug and turned her attention to another guest.

  Claudia shrank inside. What was ahead for her in this place?

  The emperor murmured to his steward, Milo, and servants appeared quickly to remove the sandals of the guests. Then they passed around basins of water and linen cloths so the guests could wash their hands.

  A stream of servants came with huge platters of food—succulent pork cooked with grape leaves, black olives in a relish sauce, stuffed pigeon, artichoke hearts and fresh asparagus steamed with carrots, chopped walnuts and fennel, platters of various goat cheeses, and small loaves of white bread, crisp on the outside and soft inside.

  Claudia had never seen so much food. Watching and listening had gained Claudia much information growing up. Now she let her eyes rest on the other guests. Levilla seemed nervous and from time to time would glance across the table at Apicata when she thought no one was looking. Sejanus watched Levilla covertly under his bushy brows.

  When the table had been cleared of all the main dishes and wiped carefully with a cloth, water and towels were again passed to the guests to cleanse their fingers from the main meal.

  Then there was a lengthy silence while Tiberius made the accepted offerings of wine, salt, and meal to the Lares, the gods that watched over the household.

  Tiberius deferred to the gods out of custom, but there was no reverence in his face. When he had finished, the servants came again, this time with platters of sliced pears in a honey sauce and bowls of fresh cherries and apricots.

  Full of rich food, Claudia tried to hide a yawn as she felt the weariness of her journey. Tiberius had obviously been observing her, for with a wave of his hand, he excused her.

  Hotep appeared at her elbow and said quietly, “Let me lead you to your room, Dominilla.”

  The Empress looked across the table. “You are to come to my quarters after the midday meal, Claudia. We will discuss your education.”

  “Yes, your Majesty.” She bowed her head to Tiberius and acknowledged the other guests before following Hotep. She glanced back at Sejanus, but he was not looking at Claudia.

  His eyes were on Hotep, and his mouth was curved in a slight smile.

  8

  Claudia wearily followed her maidservant through the maze of halls and was glad to reach her room. After they entered, Hotep bolted the door, almost fiercely.

  “Are you afraid of something, Hotep?”

  “I am always afraid, but there is one I fear most.”

  “Sejanus?”

  Her maid looked startled. “How did you know?”

  “I saw the way he was looking at you.”

  “He takes those he chooses and they fear to say anything. He has great authority with the emperor. You do not need to fear for no one would touch the emperor’s ward.”

  “Oh, Hotep, how can I protect you?”

  The girl smiled sadly. “The other servants watch out for me, Dominilla, but Sejanus is careful. He waits like a spider to strike when a girl is alone. There are dark places in the palace. Two of the maidservants have disappeared since I’ve been here.”

  Claudia was horrified. What could she do? Perhaps there was a way she could speak to the empress tomorrow.

  She awoke the next morning to sun pouring in the window. It took a moment to remember where she was. She saw Hotep waiting patiently with a tray. The aroma of fresh bread wafted toward her. One cup on the tray held mulsa, a drink of water with fermented honey in it, and another held a small cup of diluted wine to dip her bread in. To Claudia’s delight, there was also a fresh pear.

  Claudia thanked her but said nothing of her thoughts about Hotep going by herself from her room to the kitchen.

  The girl must have read her thoughts, for she murmured, “He is not here in the early morning.”

  After Claudia was dressed for the day, with a belt under her growing bosom for support, they took Felix to the garden. Claudia asked Hotep to tell her about Egypt.

  “We had a farm, near the great river, the Nile. My two brothers and I used to cut papyrus from the marshes. My father sold it to be made into parchment. We also grew wheat and barley and had fig trees. We had two cows. My father was better off than many in Egypt. He had to give a large portion of the harvest to Pharaoh’s men, but we were happy. One night Roman soldiers came from the river. They took all our food, and then took us captive. I heard my mother screaming and then she also was led away. I never saw my family again.”

  “Oh Hotep, I’m so sorry.”

  She smiled. “The gods have protected me. I am fortunate to work in the palace. That is not the fate of some of the other slave girls.”

  “I am glad you are here.” Claudia looked at the sky. “It is nearly time for the noon meal, then I must go to the Empress.”

  “Wait in my room, Hotep, and take care of Felix.”

  “Yes, Dom
inilla.”

  Once again Claudia followed Milo through the palace and found herself before another ornately carved door, covered with gold leaf. Milo knocked and was told to enter. He waved Claudia in, bowed to the empress, and retreated.

  The empress sat in a large impressive chair as her two maidservants hovered nearby.

  “Come closer, Claudia. Let me have a look at you.”

  She did as she was asked and stood quietly in front of the empress.

  “You are tall for your age. When is your birthday?” She spoke in Latin, a test.

  “May, my lady.”

  Livia smiled. “Ah, after the goddess of spring. Your Latin is good. Who was your teacher?”

  “My grandmother, Scribonia.”

  The empress frowned. “Ah yes, Scribonia. Augustus divorced her.”

  “The day my mother was born, my lady.” She stopped short of saying to marry you.

  “You speak your mind. I would caution you not to be impertinent to me.”

  Claudia kept her face bland. “I was only stating what I know. I did not wish to offend.”

  The empress sighed. “You have courage. It may stand you in good stead, dwelling in this place.” She leaned forward in the chair. “Have you ever been to the baths?”

  Claudia chided herself for her quick tongue. She must be more cautious. “No, my lady, we, uh, remained in the villa.”

  “Well, then it will be my pleasure to introduce you. No Roman matron would go a day without attending the bath. We learn there of what is happening in Rome.”

  Claudia realized it was in her best interests to be submissive. She had a feeling the empress had much to teach her.

  Livia quizzed her in Latin a little further, then discussed weaving and needlework.

  “Do you sing? Play the lute?”

  “I play a little, but have only sung to myself.”

  “We will obtain an instrument and you can demonstrate your skills. You will have a husband to entertain one day.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Claudia did not look forward to playing before the empress.

  “Come to my quarters after your morning meal, Claudia, and we will proceed to the baths.” With a wave of her hand, Claudia was dismissed. Hotep was waiting.

  “Have you been here all this time?”

  “No, Dominilla, I took Felix out to the garden and waited in your room. It seemed that it was time to come for you, so I came.”

  Claudia looked up and down the hall. “You didn’t encounter anyone on the way, did you?”

  Hotep shook her head and smiled her gentle smile. “No, Dominilla, no one.”

  9

  Whenever she encountered Sejanus, Claudia had a sense of darkness. Felix was a comfort but no real protection against the evil that stalked the halls of the palace. Claudia tried to protect Hotep by forbidding her to go about the palace in the late afternoon or evening.

  Hotep often told her things she heard from other servants, how Sejanus filled the ears of Tiberius with thoughts of many plots against him. Those of noble rank fawned over the prefect, considering him the power behind the throne.

  “He appears to be devoted to the emperor, for once, when they were traveling, part of the grotto where they were eating collapsed. Several men and servants died, but Sejanus protected the emperor with his body and saved his life. The emperor trusts him completely.”

  Claudia listened quietly. “But others do not?”

  “No, Dominilla, those who oppose him fear his power growing and now the emperor is talking about leaving Rome . . .”

  “Leaving Rome? When?” Would Sejanus be in charge of her? That was a thought that caused her heart to race.

  “No one knows, but they feel he is grooming Sejanus to run the empire in his place. There is talk about the Isle of Capri where the emperor has a palace.”

  As Tiberius invoked the blessings of the gods and they began their meal, Claudia had a strange feeling of uneasiness. Something was wrong but she didn’t know what it was. She had a strong urge to return to her room but wondered how she could do that gracefully. Was something wrong? She began to rub her head and cover her eyes with her hand. Perhaps she could feign a headache.

  Tiberius was the first one to notice and she realized he watched her more than she imagined. “Are you ill?”

  “No, Majesty, only a small headache.”

  His large, luminous eyes focused on Claudia. Finally he nodded. “Milo, escort my ward to her room.”

  The servant bowed and helped Claudia up as another servant quickly slipped her sandals on her feet. When she entered her room, Hotep was nowhere to be found.

  She took an oil lamp and hurried down the dark hall toward the kitchen. Suddenly, in the shadows she heard voices, a girl, weeping, and the harsh voice of a man. Then there was the sound of fabric tearing.

  Claudia knew the girl was Hotep and with a jolt of fear, she realized who the man was.

  Choking down her fear, she gathered her courage and called out, “Hotep, are you there? I have been looking everywhere for you.”

  In the shadows, the man turned and his eyes blazed for a moment in the light of the lamp. When he realized who it was, he stepped back quickly, letting go of Hotep.

  His voice was low and smooth. “I heard your maid’s cries, Dominilla. It seems she fell and hurt herself. It delayed me from joining you at dinner. You are finished then?”

  The lie was blatant and anger boiled up in her heart as she faced him, yet something told her to be wary of what she said. He was a powerful force in the palace. She hoped he would not see the fear in her face as she struggled to remain calm.

  “No, my lord, I had a headache and the emperor excused me to rest. Hotep was not in my room to attend me. How fortunate of you to be near to help her.” She kept her voice innocent and soothing.

  He gave a slight bow of his head. “It was my pleasure, Dominilla. Please excuse me as I myself am late joining the emperor for dinner.”

  Her heart pounding, she watched him swiftly walk away. When he was out of sight, Hotep fell at her feet. “Have mercy on me, Dominilla. I only went to the kitchen to get some food for Felix. I disobeyed you. Do not have me beaten.”

  Claudia lifted the girl to her feet. “Hotep, I’m not going to beat you. I’m only glad I was here in time. The gods must favor you, for I felt strongly during dinner to return to my room and then searched for you. Did he hurt you?”

  “Not in the way he wished to. You were very brave, Dominilla. We are fortunate you are the emperor’s ward.”

  On the way back to Claudia’s room, Hotep told her of others in the castle who had crossed Sejanus and disappeared.

  Claudia was now more fearful than ever. That night she had a dream and saw the face of Sejanus, twisted with hate and anger, his hands reaching for her throat. She tried to scream, but no sound came. She woke suddenly, drenched in perspiration. What kind of a place had she come to?

  10

  Julia was dead. Tiberius stood on his balcony, watching the morning haze lift off the city. He held the scroll brought by a courier the night before. Surprisingly his vengeance brought him no pleasure. He’d learned she was dying when he gave the order for her seclusion—and starvation. As he considered the woman who had been his wife, the anger rose again. She was no noble Roman matron, blatantly dishonoring their marriage. Humiliated, he’d angrily left Rome for Rhodes, leaving her father to serve the divorce papers. With her condemnation by the Senate, Augustus did the only thing he could do to save her life. Under sentence from the Roman Senate, he’d banished her to Pandetaria. Why had Augustus relented and let her leave that barren island where she should have remained and allowed her to go to Reggio? She only continued her debaucheries, and now there was the child. Augustus knew about the girl, but did nothing. Tiberius pressed his lips together. Augustus was a foolish old man who, in spite of Julia’s sins, grieved for his daughter until he died. Tiberius shook his head in disgust.

  He considered Sempronius Gracchus, one of Juli
a’s more persistent lovers. The fool had the audacity to try to usurp the throne for Antonius, even requesting a divorce from Tiberius in Julia’s name. Too bad Antonius committed suicide before the soldiers could arrest him for treason. As for Gracchus, Augustus merely banished him to the African coast. Tiberius smiled with pleasure. As emperor, he meted out his own justice, and Gracchus was dead.

  As he gazed out across Rome, another name came to mind unbidden. Vipsania. Just thinking of her renewed the pain. He loved her still—though ordered by Augustus to divorce his pregnant wife to marry the emperor’s prostitute of a daughter. It was as though his heart had been ripped from his body. Vipsania bore a son, Drusus. He should have been heir to the throne, but he was dead of a mysterious illness. He felt the anger rise up again. He never believed that. If he ever found who was responsible—he clenched one fist.

  Loneliness crept over his heart like a shadow. He’d never wanted the regency. Sejanus handled so many details for him. Perhaps he could make him a co-regent and leave Rome once and for all for his castle in Capri. The thought pursued him daily. Sejanus on many occasions had insinuated that there were plots against the emperor’s life, and fear had become a dark companion. He rubbed his chin with one thumb. When his prefect brought him names of men he insisted were plotting against his life, he’d dealt with them swiftly, despite their cries of innocence. Their families had been banished from Rome and their worldly goods confiscated by Sejanus.

  Tiberius ignored a faint fluttering of regret. Some of these men were of good standing, even senators. He turned his attention to the scroll again. So the old slave, Cato, was dead. No matter. However, there was Scribonia’s slave, Medina, who asked to be returned to her mistress.

  He tapped the scroll against his hand. He’d dealt the girl enough heartache. He would not be the one to bear the news of Julia’s death to young Claudia. Someone else would have that duty.