by Milinda Jay
“It’s too hot to be carrying around this much wool,” he said, laughing as he shouldered the bags.
She didn’t feel as at ease with him as she had felt before. She didn’t want to fall for a man she had no hope of being with. His duty was to Rome and the emperor, and Cassia, not to her.
Before they reached the garden door, they heard giggling and splashing.
“Those boys,” Annia said, relieved by their joy. “They think they are fish. It is hard to keep them out of that pool.”
“It’s not just your boys now. You’ll see,” Marcus said, holding the heavy wooden villa door open for her.
And Marcus was right. It wasn’t just her boys in the pool. Lucia and Julius had joined them, and it looked as though Cato was busy giving them swimming lessons.
“See,” Marcus said, “I told you they were having fun. And, like their mother, working at the same time.”
“Do this,” Cato said, instructing Lucia, and put his face down in the water.
Lucia obediently followed suit. Her bright red hair swirled just beneath the water’s surface.
Julius looked at Cato and followed his lead, placing his little face down in the water, then lifting it, coughing and spitting. It was clear Julius was willing to do anything his new hero was doing.
“You can’t breathe under the water, Julius,” Cato said, and shook his head.
“I wasn’t,” Julius returned, his eyes blazing.
“It looks as though Cato has found a friend,” Marcus said, smiling.
“I pray Cato is always conducting himself honorably when his little friend is following,” Annia said.
Lucia popped up from underwater, laughing, water bouncing off her springy red curls. “I held my breath underwater!”
She noticed Annia and Marcus, and said, as if explaining herself, “I decided that if Julius and I didn’t learn to swim as soon as possible, the two of us would eventually drown. He shows no intention of staying out of the water. Flavius and Cato have each fished him out at least once.”
“Learning to swim is a very good idea,” Annia agreed.
“I’m teaching Julius, Mother,” Flavius called. “See? Come here, Julius.” And Julius moved closer to Flavius.
He allowed Flavius to lay him on his back in the water, holding him up with one hand. Julius stared solemnly at the clear blue July sky.
“See, Mother?” Flavius said. “He’s floating. Watch this.”
Flavius whispered something to Julius, and Julius smiled. It was clear Julius had two heroes.
“Ready?” Flavius said, and then let go of Julius. The child bobbled for a moment, then floated atop the water like a little cork.
“Good,” Annia called to the boys. “That is wonderful, Julius. Good job teaching them, Flavius and Cato. You may very well be saving their lives.”
“Watch this, Annia. I can do a lot more than hold my breath underwater.”
Lucia propelled herself toward the middle of the pool, paddling like a dog. Julius followed closely behind, splashing as hard as his hands would allow.
“Why did no one ever tell me how happy swimming could make you feel?” Lucia asked when she had reached the other end, Julius close behind.
They all laughed.
“By tomorrow afternoon,” Cato said, “they will be swimming the way you’re supposed to swim. They learn fast.”
Lucia and Julius beamed as if they had been given an ivy crown.
“Be sure to teach Lucia how to save people in the water,” Annia said.
“Don’t worry,” Lucia said. “I’ve already made that request.”
“Someone here besides Basso must be able to save babies from the stream,” Annia said.
“Yes,” Lucia said, “and I plan to teach anyone willing to learn as quickly as I can.”
Annia threw Lucia a puzzled look. “That’s lovely. The more able to swim and save lives in this villa, the better,” she said.
“That’s not what I mean,” Lucia said. “I’ll have to teach someone else. I’m coming to Britain with you.”
“Really?” Annia asked. A friend on the journey home would double her joy.
“Oh, Lucia. I am so happy,” she said. Annia held her arms out to hug her wet friend.
“I decided yesterday,” Lucia said, “when Scribonia asked if anyone wished to go. So far, I am the only one. Everyone else has heard such stories about the wilds of Britain—the men painted blue, beating their shields, tall as giants—that no one else would go. But I knew that if you were from there, it couldn’t be so bad.”
“You will love it,” Annia said. “It’s not like Rome, where the sun blinds you. There, the sky is a softer blue. Most of Britain is densely wooded, and in spring, full of bluebells and primroses. But,” she added, her voice taking on a warning tone, “it is not warm very often. It is cool most of the time. Not painfully so, but cool.”
“So all that wool will be put to good use?” Lucia asked, teasing her.
“Ah, yes,” Annia said. “You will become the wool-working queen after we’ve been there for a few winters.”
“I look forward to it,” Lucia said, rolling her eyes, but smiling.
“I wish you could meet my friend, Virginia,” Annia said. “I wish she were coming, too. What fun the three of us could have together. You would love her, and she would love you.”
How could she find Virginia so that she could go with her, as well? Annia wondered if Virginia might possibly still be back at her modest villa on the outskirts of Rome. It couldn’t be too far from here.
“Do you think it would be too dangerous to go back to my villa and get Virginia?” Annia asked Marcus.
“I’m working on that,” Marcus said. “I’ve got people watching your villa to see if it’s safe.”
“Is Virginia still there?” Annia asked, her joy bubbling over her words. “Although I’m not sure where else she could have gone.”
“Yes, she is,” Marcus said. “And, according to a very reliable spy, she works very hard keeping it clean and beautiful.”
“I hope she is not alone,” Annia said. “Did any of the servants stay to help her?” She worried for her friend and knew that she would do everything and more to keep the house safe, clean and ready for Annia’s return.
Virginia had always done more than asked, putting Annia’s comfort before her own desires. Yes, she was a slave, but being a slave did not necessitate loving your mistress.
The bond between the two women had grown stronger over the years. Only Virginia understood the pain Annia had suffered over the many years knowing Janius loved only her money.
Virginia had carried her through the heart-killing pain of being thrown out of her house and wrenched from her boys.
Virginia had reminded her that her hope had to be in the Lord and not in men.
“Titus has gone to help her,” Marcus said. “I believe he intends to marry her as soon as she gains her freedom.”
“That is perfect,” Annia said. “I am so happy.”
And she was. It made her feel safe to know that not only did she still have a safe home of her own, even if she couldn’t go back and live in it, but it was filled with people she loved and who loved her.
“Come on, then,” Marcus said, turning her attention from Virginia. “We will take time for baths and then be ready for the evening.”
“Baths?” Annia said. “Indeed.”
In one swift movement, she pushed Marcus into the bathing pool.
Quick as a flash, she shed her outer layers of clothing, right down to her undertoga, laid Maelia on the little garden bench, making certain she couldn’t wriggle off, and jumped into the pool landing beside him.
“You didn’t expect that, did you?” she said, turning to laugh at Marcus’s surprise.
“You can swim, right?” she asked, a small shadow of worry crossing her face.
“Across the Mere Internum from Italia to Corsica if I have to.”
“That, my good fellow, is quite a boast,” Annia said, splashing him in the face for his overwhelming pride.
“Mother,” Flavius said, “race him.”
“Sounds like a challenge to me,” Marcus said.
He climbed from the pool, shed his outer garments, made his way to the far end of the pool and stood waiting for her.
His chest was that of a seasoned Roman soldier, massively strong but scarred.
“Ready?” he asked, taunting her with a mischievous glint in his sparkling green eyes.
“I’ve never been more ready in my life,” she teased.
“Come on, then,” he said, nodding as if he were already the victor.
Annia pursed her lips. “You think you can win?” she said. “You’ve never seen me swim.”
“The challenge is accepted,” Marcus said.
Cato, Lucia, Flavius and little Julius moved aside, laughing at their playful taunting, eager to see who would win. They took seats on the edge of the pool, their feet dangling in the water.
“I’ll be the judge,” Cato said.
Annia pulled herself out of the pool and stood at the edge next to Marcus, ready to dive in.
“No,” Cato said, “the pool is too shallow and short for diving. You’ll have to begin in the water, touching the side of the pool.”
“A wise judge,” Marcus said, “saving lives.” It was clear that he admired the child for his foresight.
“Good boy,” Annia said. “You kept your mother from being a fool.”
“Now,” Cato said after they had climbed back down into the cooling waters and stood tense and ready to go at its edge. “Champions, begin!”
Annia and Marcus kicked off the side of the pool, and Annia took the lead.
“Swim, Mother, swim,” Flavius said, and Julius took up the chant.
“Someone has to yell for Marcus,” Lucia said.
“I can’t yell for anyone,” Cato said. “I’m the official. You will have to.”
“Swim, Marcus, swim,” Lucia said.
By the middle of the pool, the race was close. The water was Annia’s safe place, and she had been swimming since she was a child, so she was lithe and quick.
“You can win, Mother, you can,” Flavius yelled.
They raced past Flavius, who stood on the center side of the pool, and Marcus began catching up,
“You can win, Marcus,” Lucia yelled. “You are gaining on her!”
They were almost to the end, and it still was not clear who was going to slap the pool edge first.
Cato stood at the end of the pool leaning down, close to the edge so that he wouldn’t miss the first hand.
“I think she’s going to win,” Flavius said, echoed by Julius.
Annia pulled forward.
“Win, win, win,” the boys chanted.
But it was not to be. Marcus was bigger and stronger and, it turned out, faster.
His hand slapped the edge a short moment before Annia’s.
“And it’s Marcus, the winner and champion,” Cato said, holding Marcus’s hand up in victory.
Marcus turned to Annia, eyes wide. “You meant it when you said you were fast,” he said, laughing, the water pouring in streams down his face. “I’ve never raced a woman, and I’ve never seen one who could swim so fast.”
Annia hated losing, but she was pleased that she had come so close to winning.
“We forgot a crown,” Flavius said. “Marcus needs a crown.” He ran to the ivy growing up the garden wall, broke off a vine and twirling it quickly into a crown, turned and placed it on Marcus’s head.
Annia shook his hand. “Congratulations, champion,” she said, her face a wreath of smiles. “But next time, the honor will be mine.”
They played in the water for a while until Maelia began making tiny sucking noises that soon turned into grunts, then full-bodied cries.
“I think you are being summoned,” Lucia said.
“I think you are right,” Annia said. “It appears my swimming for the day is complete.”
“See you in the atrium as soon as you feed her and get dressed,” Marcus said, smiling. “Wear your best palla.” He winked.
Annia felt giddy as a girl. She picked up Maelia and walked as quickly as her legs would take her to her room, where she fed Maelia and dreamed of a family where the father loved the mother.
Chapter Thirteen
The sun had not yet set when Marcus offered Annia his arm. They walked out of the villa and into the golden hour of late afternoon.
A shadow behind her made her catch her breath and turn.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “I have a few people watching.”
“For the boys?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “They will be safe, and we will not be followed.”
“Thank you,” she said, and meant it.
The evening promised to be perfect. A breeze cooled the summer-hot street, and the people they passed, their day chores done, were cheerful, hurrying home to their families or to meet friends for dinner.
Marcus led her through the gilded afternoon to a corner of Rome where she had never been, where there was no chance of her being seen or recognized.
The street felt familiar, though it wasn’t. The sights, sounds and smells took her back to a place from her girlhood.
She felt she was in the heart of the little village near her home.
The people in this corner of the city that was Rome were dressed in the clothes of Britain. The women wore capes rather than pallas and the men lace-up buckskin boots like the shepherds of her homeland.
There were cheese shops and wool workers’ shops, and the accent she heard on the sidewalks reminded her of her mother.
“What is this place?” she asked Marcus, looking around her in wonder.
“I thought you might like it,” he said. “This is called Little Britain, where freedmen have settled with others from their homeland.”
“It’s wonderful,” Annia said. “How did I never know?”
He led her to a storefront. Just beyond the vendor’s wares was a secret gate, leading to a garden beyond.
The sweet scent of lavender wafted through the iron gate, adorned with complicated circles and knots and sprinkled with bronze-work leaves.
The gate, so similar to the one guarding her girlhood garden, stopped her. She touched the filigreed knots and leaves, running her fingers over them, relishing their familiarity.
“Close your eyes,” he said, taking her hands in his and opening the gate.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, but her excitement at being among people and things that were so familiar made her trust him to take her to a place that would bring her joy. She was not afraid.
He led her down the garden path, the scent of lavender growing stronger and placed her hand in the hand of another. A woman, Annia was certain, her hands soft and small.
“Open your eyes now,” the woman whispered.
Annia was in a cool white room surrounded by floating curtains where the woman’s dreamlike hands helped her slip out of her street clothes and into a garment that was made of a light, silken material. The dress reached her toes and floated and swished around her legs when she turned.
Other women surrounded her and silently caught her hair up in an elaborate braid and sprinkled it with a light golden powder so that it sparkled in the candlelight. They placed soft kidskin dancing shoes on her feet and rubbed her arms and shoulders with scented oil.
They led her out onto a green lined with glowing lanterns and adorned with a silken can
opy.
When they led her beneath the canopy, she heard a familiar drumming. The drumming was joined by a pipe, and soon strings echoed.
The familiar music took her back to summer nights round dances on the village green, nights of mystery, joy and laughter.
She remembered watching her parents dance and being at once delighted and a little frightened by the seriousness of her mother’s face as her father led her, gracefully navigating the complicated rhythms and patterns of the dance.
Marcus held his hand out to her. She trembled when she took it. Did he invite her to this ritual with full knowledge of its meaning?
This was the harvest dance, a courtship dance, the round dance of God and life and love.
He couldn’t know its true meaning. If he did, he would not be dancing it with her.
Her foot tapped to the rhythm of the drum, and before she could think any further, she took his hand and together they claimed their space in the middle of the circle of dancers.
As they faced each other, waiting for the dance to begin, Marcus’s face was at once serious and kind.
Annia looked deeply into his eyes, captivated by this man who had woven for her an evening so beautiful that she would remember it always.
The dance began.
Marcus stepped forward, bowed and touched both his hands to hers, palm meeting palm, just a touch, then withdrew and stepped back.
Annia stepped forward and curtsied. She made a half turn, then another, her silken gown flowing like gossamer around her feet.
She held her hand out, palm up, and waited for Marcus to meet her hand and pull her to him, then back again, forward and back.
The pipes and strings joined the drums, and now Marcus and Annia turned to the side, circled each other, bowed and lifted one arm then the next, keeping their eyes on each other until they turned away, then back again.
The dance was somber at first, prayer-like, and then the music’s tempo increased and the circles became faster and faster, the dancers swirling until they were dizzy, their feet keeping quick jostling time to the music.