I, Claudia

by Charity Bishop

  Pressing his hand, I whisper, “Be careful, he’s dangerous.”

  “Thank you. That’s what I wanted to know.”

  Voices stir the air behind us and we walk further into the gloom. Rome glitters beyond the walls. Shivering, I lean against the parapet. “It’s beautiful.”

  “You’d be warmer if you had more fabric.”

  Laughing, I retort, “This is your sister’s fault!”

  “She has good taste but very little common sense.”

  Her laughter spills out behind us and makes me smile. “I like her, though.”

  “I’m glad. Hermina needs people to like her.” Pilate glances up at the house. “She’s not happy here. No one is. This house inspires unease. It is all its secrets, shut up in its many rooms. Sorrow dwells here, since it’s long known only hatred.”

  “Do you intend to change that?”

  Silence curves around us. “How might I do that?”

  “Become a better man than your father.”

  Dark brows lift heavenward. “Do you share your father’s opinion of me?”

  “He fears Fidelus will bring out the worst in you.”

  “Do you think I have a ‘worst’ in me for him to bring out?”

  My thin tunic moves in the breeze. “There’s darkness in all men,” I answer.

  “What of the women, does it live in them, too?”

  Remembering my premonitions, I shudder. “Yes.”

  “Is it better to fight it or surrender to it? Which is cleverest, Claudia?”

  Light spills out into the courtyard. His nearness sends excited tremors into my veins. “They’ll wonder where we are.”

  “Stay with me.” His hand catches mine and lifts my fingers to his lips. My skin tingles as he steps closer. Pilate trails his fingertips across my bare shoulder and lowers his mouth to mine. I let him teach me how to kiss as his arms move around me. His lips travel to my throat.

  “Claudia?” Behind us, Hermina’s shadow falls across the verandah.

  I pull away from Pilate and hurry inside.

  Chapter Three

  Hermina follows me down the hall. Her red hair bounces against her scrawny form. “Say you’ll visit again soon!”

  “I’ll visit whenever I can.” A slave walks past holding a familiar blue bundle. “Is that…?”

  “The tunic, as I promised. Wear it whenever my brother visits!” She giggles.

  I shake my head as we go outside. “You’re shameless for someone so young.”

  “Hermina was shameless the day she entered this world.” Pilate offers me his hand and I accept it, walking to his chariot. He notices my expression and asks, “What?”

  “It doesn’t surprise me you drive a chariot. It is a symbol of power. People move out of your way. You don’t have to command them, it’s instinctive.”

  I climb into it and he narrows his eyes. “You don’t approve of power plays.”

  “You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy the ride.”

  Taking the reins, he shakes his head. Hermina waves from the top step. Rome stirs beyond the gates as they open to let us into the street. His perfectly matched black horses trot past the aqueducts and I glance over my shoulder at them. We turn a corner and I brush against him. He steadies me.

  “Are you thinking of the augur?” he asks.

  “It’s a lonely life. No one sees him other than when they want something.”

  “Isn’t that how all our lives are?”

  Brushing the hair out of my face, I shrug. “It’s hard to know something and have no one to share it with.”

  “You’re close to your father.”

  White walls fade into rich vineyards. Sadness creeps into my voice. “I can’t tell him everything.”

  Pilate’s eyes soften as he looks at me. “Then find someone to confide in. Here, let me show you… take the reins.”

  I grip the long leather straps. They feel warm and alive under my fingers; I sense the power of the horses; a slight tug causes my nerves to tingle. “Life is like driving a chariot, Claudia. You can do it alone and feel every flinch and tug of the lines. You can fight the horses or you can learn from them. It’s easier if you have help.”

  His hands close over mine and our fingers entwine. The wheels turn into a rut and jolt us, forcing Pilate to steady me. His hand lingers on my waist. I look up at him. “Is that what you want, Lucius, to help me drive the chariot?”

  “I want you to know you can confide in me, if you need to. The augur chooses to be alone. You don’t have to live that life.”

  We drive through the wide gates into the courtyard. Beyond, the harvesters are hard at work in the vineyard. Quintus emerges from the stables as I step into the dirt. “I see you’ve brought our runaway home. Why didn’t you keep her?”

  “I thought your father might want her back.”

  A disheveled Libi slips from the barn into the house. I eye my brother with suspicion.

  “Mother’s furious with you,” he says. “You may want to stay outside.” Pulling a face, I follow them to the watering trough. The horses nudge one another as Pilate lets them drink. Quintus leans against the post. “How fares life in Rome?”

  “You know my father. He’s moving me to the Praetorian Guard.”

  Quintus smacks the edge of the trough. “I knew it! I told you that in Judea! You laughed in my face! You said you only ever want to be a soldier!”

  “I will be a soldier, just a better paid one.”

  The side door opens and Libi emerges. Without looking at us, she goes to draw water from the well. Quintus’ gaze lingers on her. “You’ll be a step away from power. I suppose your father’s already chosen you a wife?”

  “He has prospects but I’m interested in none of them.”

  Not wanting my brother to notice my red face, I cross to the well. Libi glances at me as she grips the bucket. “Your father wants to speak with you,” she says.

  “Did you get into trouble when I left yesterday?”

  She is careful not to look at the men. “Your mother blamed you, not me.”

  I follow her indoors. “Did you enjoy your tour of the hayloft with my brother?”

  Libi yanks me into a side room. “You can’t tell anyone!”

  “Did you—?”

  She presses her hand over my mouth. Footsteps pass and she hisses, “No! My religion forbids it! You know that!”

  “Religion forbids a lot of things but it never stops anyone.”

  Lowering the water jug onto the table, she sighs. “I can’t be his mistress, and he can’t marry. I told him that.”

  I pluck a piece of straw from her hair. “Before or after he kissed you?”

  “Well, it might have been before and after.” Her eyes twinkle at me and we burst into giggles.

  The door behind us slams into the wall and we jump at the sight of Jacob. He looks on both of us with disapproval. “Claudia, your father wants you. Libi, Servia wants her water. Go now!”

  He stands aside as we push past him, parting on the stairs. I hurry down the hall, smoothing my tunic and forcing my face into a serious expression. I enter Father’s sunlit study, full of scrolls and parchment. He sits in his favorite chair, with Jacob’s father at his shoulder. Crossing to stand before him, I fix my eyes on the floor and wait.

  Father lowers his scroll and looks at me. “Well, what do you have to say?”

  “I’m sorry, Father. I’ll never again make such an error of judgment.”

  “See to it you don’t. Your mother came home in tears. The servants searched for you late into the night. Avram hasn’t slept and neither have I.”

  I glance at the Jewish man and he smiles at me.

  “Why did you run away?”

  “Someone jostled me into the butcher’s table.”

  Avram looks at me in concern. Father pushes back his chair. “Never run from anything, Claudia. Life is full of unpleasantness but you must be strong. There’s greatness in you.” He touches my face. “Y
our dreams are a test from the gods. When you conquer them you’ll bring honor to us.” He embraces me, kisses the top of my head, and says, “Go to your mother.”

  She is less forgiving and slaps me. Fear lurks in her eyes as she says, “Don’t ever do that again! Do you know what happens to girls alone in Rome?”

  “Yes, Mother. I’m sorry.”

  Lifting her chin, she asks, “Did anyone touch you?”

  “No, Pilate found me first.”

  She nods and her face softens. “Your punishment is to help prepare for the harvest feast. Find out from Avram what needs done and do it.”

  I scrub the household linens until my fingers are raw. I help the servants move furniture, carry pillows, and transform our sunken courtyard into a sitting area. I toil in the kitchen until sweat rolls off my skin.

  The messenger from Rome arrives the morning of the feast. I recognize the royal seal and carry the scroll to Quintus with a heavy heart. His face brightens as he reads it. “The legion departs tomorrow for Judea!”

  “But you’ve only been home a month!” I wail.

  Putting his arm around me, he says, “That’s the life of a tribune. Pilate put me up for a commendation. I am going to take his place as a commander. It’s an honor and you should be proud of me.”

  “I am proud of you. I just don’t want you to leave.”

  We reach the back door and Quintus pats the side of my face. “I know that, but I must. Now go upstairs and put on that nice little blue tunic, the one you said has not enough fabric. Pilate is coming this evening.”

  “You’re as bad as Hermina!”

  Laughing, he says, “With me in Judea, someone needs to watch over you, and I’d rather it be Pilate.”

  I shake my head and retreat upstairs. Libi puts up my hair and I slide new sandals onto my feet and a bracelet around my wrist. Feeling self-conscious in the tunic, I mingle with the guests and pretend not to wait for Pilate to arrive. He is late but at the sound of his voice in the yard, I go out to meet him.

  Dismounting, he hands the reins to a servant. “Ah, my favorite dress.”

  “Is it? I thought you’d rather I not wear it.”

  He grins and takes my arm. “I’d rather others not see you in it, but I never said you shouldn’t wear it.”

  We enter the house and Father turns to embrace him. “Lucius, you must come more often now that my son is to leave us. I understand we have you to thank for his accommodation.”

  “Your son proved his worth in Judea. I had nothing to do with it.”

  Raising his brow, Father answers, “I doubt it. You have influence in Rome. That is why Sejanus wanted you in the Praetorian Guard. However, there is a better time for such talk. Tonight, we celebrate another successful harvest! Go and enjoy yourself! Claudia, show him to the tables!”

  I take his hand and he trails after me through the guests. Laughter fills the air, wine flows freely, and all eat with gluttonous delight. Musicians play in the corner and Pilate asks, “Will you and your sisters dance for us tonight?”

  “Do you want us to?”

  Walking backward, I bump into Jacob. He turns and surprise covers his face; his eyes dart down my front and his brows lift to his hairline. “Sorry,” I tell him, laughing, and drag Pilate away.

  Thais, Lucilla, and I do dance for our guests. I sway and spin as Pilate leans against a column and watches me. Lucilla takes my arm and twirls me away. I fall out of his line of sight and return to it. Jacob stands beside him. They speak to one another, their faces dark and their voices inaudible over the music. Soon Jacob storms away in anger.

  “What is that about?” Thais asks as we pass one another.

  He pauses to look at me on the stairs and his eyes rake over me in disapproval. “I don’t know. It’s not like I’m his sister.”

  Lucilla ducks under my outstretched arms. “That may be the problem.”

  Warmth rushes into my face as we finish the dance. Applause rings out and as the music starts again, I make my way to Pilate. “What did you say to Jacob?”

  “He expressed disapproval for your tunic. I put him in his place.” Pilate touches my arm and moves away as Quintus calls to him.

  I hurry up the stairs into the coolness of the house. Jacob sits in a windowsill, staring out over the dark vineyard. Sweat coats my palms as I approach. “If you have something to say, Jacob, say it to me, not to Pilate.”

  “You dress like a harlot.”

  My cheeks redden and I feel slapped. “You have no right to say that.”

  “I say what I think and I think your behavior shames your father’s house.”

  Shadows merge beneath us as two figures embrace in the gloom. Jacob curls his lip in disgust. I square my jaw. “It is my father’s house, and you are his servant. I am not your sister. How I dress isn’t your concern.”

  He stands up, towering over me. “Father would do well to take us from this house, but he stays out of loyalty to your father.”

  “What are you insinuating?” I call after him as he pushes past.

  Jacob turns at the top of the stairs. “You think I don’t know your brother wants my sister in his bed? That Pilate wants you for his mistress! Do you think I am blind? This house is a foul, polluted place and it’s no coincidence that you suffer from nightmares!”

  “If you hate it so much, why don’t you leave?”

  Dark eyes snap at me in the shadows. “Someday, I will.”

  He vanishes down the stairs and I sink to the floor. Lucilla finds me there much later. “Come, we should bid Pilate and the others farewell. Our brother is also about to set out for his garrison.”

  I follow her downstairs, my happiness vanquished. The slender ribbon of dawn buds across the vineyards. Quintus embraces me. “Nothing in Jerusalem is as beautiful as you, Claudia. I’ll remember you in my dreams, little sister.”

  “You won’t be in mine, if the gods will it,” I answer, and cling to him.

  He and Pilate ride out into the dust. Jacob refuses to speak to me and I avoid him. Libi watches us carefully and asks, “What did he say to you?”

  “More than I wanted to hear,” I answer. I fold the blue tunic and put it away. My heart yearns for Pilate but he does not return.

  Noticing my disappointment when he turns down yet another invitation to supper, Father says, “Sejanus keeps him busy with the Praetorian Guard. They’re making arrests this week.”

  “Procula, your daughter wants to know if she can have the fine wine for her wedding feast.” Avram looks up from his ledgers. “I worry there isn’t enough of it from last season.”

  Moving to look, Father says, “She can have what’s left. I sold most of it to Fidelus last month. The new wine will be ready soon.”

  “Why did you agree to the marriage?” I sulk. “Lucilla barely knows the senator’s son.”

  “She likes him and he can provide for her. That’s all that matters.” Father shuffles through the parchment on his desk. “Go help with the preparations.”

  I leave the sunlit room and walk down the hall. Servants hurry past with armloads of fabric and cushions. Lucilla glances up at me as I enter, garlands spread out on the floor around her. “Have you heard the latest of Pilate?”

  “No, why?” I drop onto the chaise at her side.

  “He dragged a man through the streets on a rope tied to his horse!”

  Thais’ nimble fingers work flowers into a headdress. One falls and I pick it up, my heart quickening with fear. “I don’t believe it.”

  “It’s true.” Lucilla leans back into the pillows.

  Staring at the floor, I ask, “Why did he do it?”

  “Does he need a reason?” Thais drops the headdress on my head. “He did it because Sejanus told him to. He is not the boy you grew up with, Claudia. They fear him in Rome. He oversees all the arrests and floggings in the prison.”

  I find it hard to breathe. “He’s never cruel!”

  “He’s a Praetorian, and Sejanus’ favorite. Of course
he’s cruel.” Lucilla smirks and continues weaving.

  Their voices fade away as I storm from the room and collide with Avram in the hall, leaning on his staff. He is not old enough to need it, but his knees are bad from years of working faithfully in the vineyards. Seeing my face, his darkens with concern. “What is it, child?”

  “Nothing,” I answer.

  He studies my expression. “Did you have another premonition?”

  I shake my head.

  Glancing at my sisters, he says, “You heard about Pilate.”

  “Do you think it’s true?” Fear nudges tension into my voice.

  He puts his hand on my shoulder. “Pilate does what he believes is best for Rome, as his father did in his place.”

  “What did his father do? No one will tell me.”

  Avram softens at the yearning in my face. “It no longer matters, Claudia. I must go to the marketplace. Come with me.”

  I love the Jewish market. Fine woven cloths fill the stalls along with baskets, tents, gems, perfumes, and all else apart from food. I feel fabric and listen to the people around us. Most conversations are in Hebrew, and I can only understand a few words here and there. We pause in front of a stall and Avram asks, “What news from Jerusalem?”

  Glancing at me, the merchant leans closer and lowers his voice. “There’s a boy in Nazareth with great wisdom for one so young. He teaches the priests in the synagogue! We have hope, Avram.” He turns to other customers, holding out a brightly dyed fabric to peak their interest.

  The streets are crowded and dusty; shepherds drive animals past, carts rumble through the lane, beggars ask for alms. Some are genuine; others are thieves. I give the last of my coins to a crippled boy under an arch and hurry to catch up with Avram. I round the corner and collide with the man standing there. He catches my packages before they fall.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t see—Lucius?”

  He grins, holding a package out of my reach. “You’re not lost, are you?”

  “Fortunately not, and be careful with that—it’s perfume.”

  Giving it to me, he walks with me after Avram. “I hear Lucilla is to marry.”

  “Yes, do you know him?”