I, Claudia

by Charity Bishop

  “Why?”

  Her cheeks flush. “It isn’t safe.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Pulling me into the shadows, she says, “Your mother wants to take you to see the high priest. She says they can help develop your dream-seer skills.”

  “I don’t want to develop them! I want to get rid of them!”

  She shushes me and glances worriedly into the kitchen. “Then you must marry and make sure your husband beds you!”

  “What does that have to do with it?”

  Blushing, Libi answers, “Dream-seers must remain virgins. It stops otherwise. Pilate would know this. You must make him desire you more than your abilities.”

  I cannot imagine a worse fate than being a temple seer. Unlike the augurs in the streets of Rome, seers are isolated and only the high priest may speak with them.

  Mother and I set out the next morning for the temple. My anxiety increases as we weave through the crowd mingling on its front steps. Temple harlots peer out at us through the curtains. One does not look much older than Hermina. I have never gone beyond the inner courtyard, where ornate detail covers the pillars and gold decorates the tiles. A boy wearing rich purple robes stops us and once he knows what Mother wants, goes to summon his master.

  Footsteps approach and a group of veiled girls pass, their eerie eyes lingering on me. The boy returns to escort us into an inner chamber, the walls heavy with scrolls. “This is the room of prophecy,” he says, bowing.

  “Come closer,” says the high priest. He faces away from us, under the arch overlooking the courtyard. Shutting the door, the boy moves to a small desk in the corner. “So you think you have a dream-seer.”

  Mother approaches as near as she dares, dragging me with her. “Yes.”

  He turns and instinctively I flinch. His milky eyes stare at me so hard I want to sink into the floor. Descending the steps, he circles me. “How old is she?”

  “She’s seventeen next week,” Mother says.

  Knobby fingers lift a strand of my hair. “We take them at eleven or twelve.”

  “But dream-seers are rare and she is untouched.”

  Those horrible eyes drift over me. “We will test her. Come.”

  We follow him into a dark room with a fire pit in the center, like the one I saw in the augur’s house. A young woman stirs as we enter and her creepy, pale eyes shift to me. The priest shoves me forward. Her hands fall into mine and she leads me to the fire.

  “Sit,” she says.

  I sink onto the pillows.

  Muttering under her breath, she casts black powder into the flames. They rush upward, the heat intense. Her eyes seem to glow across from me. “Yes,” she says softly, “the spirits are strong with this one.”

  Rattling something in a jar, she throws bones and runes into the sand and crouches over them, her wild hair making her look like an animal. “They aren’t the usual spirits.”

  The priest moves to look over her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

  “Minerva doesn’t speak to her.”

  He glances at me. “Is it another of the gods?”

  Prodding the bones, she shakes her head. “It’s a god, but not one of ours.”

  Specters are in the room with us. I stare at the dark form lurking over the high priest’s head. It revolves into grotesque shapes. “Have you told him about the specter?” I ask.

  Mother stirs in the shadows and the woman stares at me in shock. Her black-rimmed eyes narrow.

  “Surely you can see it,” I stress, indicating the floating shadow.

  The priest draws nearer. “What is that you say, girl?”

  “You have a death specter hanging over you. But she hasn’t told you.”

  The seer rises to her feet, glaring at me.

  “Is this true?” he demands, turning on her.

  “Lies,” she hisses, “all lies! She is not one of us! Send her away!”

  I scramble to my feet as she lashes out at me. Black powder explodes in my face, stinging my hands.

  “Out!” she screams, “out before I call the gods of death upon you!”

  Mother drags me outside, fear in her eyes. “What god did she speak of?”

  “I don’t know!”

  She brings me up short at the gates. “You may have ruined your chances!”

  “Good! I’d rather die than go back there!”

  Carts lumber past and she jerks me out of their way. “You’ll do as I tell you!”

  “I won’t! I’ll leave this place and offer myself to Pilate!”

  Mother glares at me. “Why must you defy me?”

  I jerk my arm out of her grasp. “It’s not my fault that I can see in my dreams, yet you blame me for it! You did that to me, when you paid a sorcerer to make sure you had a son! What did he do to me, Mother? What foul poison did he pour into your womb while I slept there?”

  She slaps me. I press a hand to my stinging cheek and blink back angry tears. Mother starts away and turns again, misery in her eyes. “I don’t hate you, child. I fear you. You’re not the only one who has nightmares.”

  Glancing back at the temple, I follow her home.

  Chapter Five

  Avram sits on the bench at the far end of the garden. His shoulders slump with grief and he looks old in spite of his age. His eyes brighten at the sight of me. Our shadows merge as I sit beside him and gaze over the vineyards. He leans on his staff and watches me. “Did you have a good day in Rome?”

  “You know where Mother took me, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  I glance up at him. “And you don’t approve.”

  “It isn’t my place to question your parents’ choices.”

  Making a pattern in the dirt at our feet, I sigh. “I don’t want to be a seer.”

  “You may not be one. You may be a prophet instead.” Avram smiles at me.

  Feeling the tension in my chest ease, I ask, “What’s the difference?”

  “Seers seek truth through divination and dark spirits. God speaks to prophets so that they might guide His people in times of great need.”

  Wind stirs my hem and I lean back. “I’m not one of your people.”

  “No, but God may speak through you, if it is His desire.”

  My hand tightens in my lap. “He must hate me to make my dreams so awful. I’ve never had a good dream, Avram… only terrible ones.”

  “It isn’t for us to question His ways.”

  The light begins to fade around us and I wipe away my tears. I brush my nose with the back of my hand and lean my head against his shoulder. “I miss Jacob.”

  “I do, too. His choices are poor but he’s still my son.”

  Opening his hand, I press the Star of David into it. Avram stares at it in shock, and hides it as servants pass behind us into the house. His voice softens. “This belongs to Jacob, where did you get it?”

  “From a woman in the marketplace who told me he’s safe.”

  His eyes search mine. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  I nod.

  “Did you warn him?”

  “He ignored me.”

  Avram closes his hand over the emblem and shuts his eyes. I touch his arm, prompting him to look at me. “He returned injured. I bound his wounds and hid the evidence from Pilate.”

  “Does he know you lied to him?”

  Shivers nip at my heels and biting my lip, I nod. Avram frowns slightly. “I wondered why he let me go.”

  “You had nothing to do with the attack on Sejanus!”

  He smiles and shakes his head. “Do you think that matters in Rome? My son tried to assassinate the most powerful man in the empire. If it weren’t for Pilate’s love for you, I’d be dead.” Pushing away from the bench, he walks toward the courtyard.

  I follow. “Jacob knew that. He told me Pilate would not punish us. He didn’t want you hurt.”

  “What if he’d been wrong?”

  Feeling cold, I wrap my arms around my waist. “He wasn’t.”
r />   “He might have been. He hated Sejanus enough to risk all our lives. That is a dangerous kind of passion, Claudia. It’s what Pilate has done for you.”

  I grip his hand. “You must help me! Fight for me! Father cannot let Mother send me to the temple as a seer! Influence him!”

  Doubt springs up in his eyes. Mother calls to me from the yard.

  “Please!”

  He does not answer and his expression haunts me as I hurry home. I kneel in our family temple and pray to our ancestors. Kissing each small statue, I set out bread and wine for them, and retreat indoors.

  Father’s voice drifts to me through the columns. I look away from the stars and swing my feet to the floor of the verandah.

  “Do you never want more gods than one, Avram?”

  “One god was sufficient all these years.”

  They enter the study and a lamp flares, casting a long shadow beside me.

  “If you displease him, there’s no other god to ask for protection from wrath.”

  Avram chuckles, “I do my best not to anger Him.”

  I start to enter the room as Father says, “I’m not sure what to do about Claudia. Do you have an opinion?”

  Darting behind a curtain, I hold my breath. Scrolls rustle.

  “What do you mean?”

  Father’s chair creaks. “Servia wants to send her to the temple.”

  “But you prefer marriage.”

  Parchment crinkles. “Yes, but to whom?”

  “What about Pilate?”

  “He’s like a brother to her, nothing more.”

  “Is he?”

  “Isn’t he?”

  Avram passes within an inch of my hiding place. “Would he protect this household in spite of the danger if he wasn’t interested in your daughter?”

  “I don’t fancy her as his mistress.”

  Wind stirs the draperies and flowers scent the air. Father taps his fingers on the desk.

  “What about his wife?”

  “Could he marry a girl with no station?”

  Avram takes down a scroll. “Pilate is the most powerful man in Rome. He will do what he likes. Isn’t that right, Claudia?”

  Guiltily, I step out from behind the curtain. Father sits back in his chair. “Do you have an opinion on this matter, my child?”

  “I’ll do whatever honors you, Father.”

  His kind, dark eyes soften in the lamplight. “Even if I tell you to be a seer?”

  “Yes, even then… if it pleases you.”

  Father snorts and returns to his work. “That’s not what your mother said.”

  I bite my lip to stop from responding.

  He waves me aside. “Off you go. I’ll think about it.”

  Entering our room and ignoring Thais when she asks where I have been, I crawl into bed and shut my eyes.

  The dream comes in full force this time. I stand alone in a corridor, the wind stirring the curtains on either side. Emptiness fills the house and fearing the worst, I move forward.

  Claudia…

  I turn but no one is there. A shadow passes through the arch and I follow it into a darkened room. Shivers prickle my arms.

  Father?

  Movement stirs behind me but my hand touches nothing but air.

  Thais shakes me awake, her face pale and streaked with tears. “It’s Father, you must come.”

  He moans in his sleep and burns with fever. I take his hand and sit at his side, listening to my mother’s frantic voice in the distance. “Do something!”

  “I can’t, there’s nothing to do,” says the physician.

  Shadows move around the walls. My eyes follow them, dreading the one that will take his spirit away. Sweat glistens on his brow and I wipe it with a damp cloth. Hours pass and we watch him worsen. I carry the basin out into the hall and rouse one of the servants. “Go to Pilate and bring him at once,” I say.

  He hurries away. I draw fresh water and resume my tending of Father. I hold back tears as I bathe his face and hands. Footsteps soon echo in the hall and Pilate enters. Mother stares at him and Thais rises from her place. His eyes dart from me to the sick man in the bed. “You sent for me?”

  I hold out my hand. “Yes.”

  His fingers fall into mine and I draw him near. Father stirs and I reach out to wake him. “Father, Lucius is here.”

  “Lucius,” he repeats softly. His eyes struggle to focus on us and soften with recognition. “You should have come sooner, for the harvest.”

  Kneeling beside him, Pilate nods. “I meant to.”

  “You’re like a second son to me, you know that.”

  His voice shows his emotion. “I do.”

  Father motions to me. “Then look after her for me. Take her as your wife.”

  Our eyes dart to one another and hastily look away. Pilate squeezes my hand. “I will. You have my word, Procula.”

  We sit with him until dawn when the rising sun takes his spirit. I feel it leave his body. Pilate half carries me onto the verandah. Tears flow, my grip tightening around him.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” I whisper.

  Pilate presses his lips to the top of my head. “I’ll never leave you again.”

  Chapter Six

  Butterflies flutter in my stomach as Libi lays out my wedding tunic. “It’s more modest than your blue one,” she teases. “But I think he’ll like it anyway.”

  I finish weaving the flowers into a headdress. “Does it look all right?”

  “It’s beautiful!” Libi takes it from me and brushes my hair. “You’ll have to sit still. This is a special arrangement and I’ve only done it once before.” Her careful fingers work my blonde hair into gentle ringlets atop my head. The scent of incense rises from the family temple.

  “Mother made her sacrifice.”

  “Yes. Rub this oil into your skin until it shines.”

  It fills the air with perfume. “Do you have the bridal sash?”

  “It’s on the bed.” Tucking a final strand into place, she steps back and admires her work. “There, you’ll do your family proud.”

  Turning in my chair, I catch her hand, “Libi, will you come with me?”

  “You mean as your servant, in Pilate’s house? No, I can’t.”

  Distress prompts me to follow her to the bed. “Why?”

  “My brother tried to kill Sejanus! Pilate will never let me in his house.” She takes my hands and squeezes them. “You mustn’t be sad! This is what you wanted! You don’t have to be a seer!”

  I try to smile and fail. “That’s only if he wants a wife.”

  “That’s why you’re drenched in perfume. No man could resist you.”

  Mother knocks at the door and enters. Libi smiles at me and slips out. Tying the sash around my waist, Mother reminds me, “Only Pilate may loosen it.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  She lowers the tunic over my head. “Pilate will show you what to do. He loves you, so he will be gentle with you. Most women aren’t so fortunate.”

  A knock at the door interrupts our talk. Hermina peers around it. “Oh, you look beautiful!” She darts inside and hugs me as Mother quickly retreats. I follow her downstairs. Sejanus is among the first to arrive, his eyes roaming until they fall on me. His expression is unreadable and a chill creeps over me.

  “Don’t worry about him,” Pilate whispers in my ear. I glance up as his fingers entwine with mine. “He may look on in disapproval but he can’t stop us.” He leads me into the courtyard, where Mother and a priest await. Our marriage happens in a haze, of touching hands and shining eyes. Pilate kisses me, the crowd cheers, and music and feasting begin. I stay close to him as guests congratulate us.

  Sejanus steps forward. “You’ve chosen a beautiful wife, Lucius.”

  “Thank you.” Pilate smiles and turns as his father speaks to him.

  Eying Sejanus with dislike, I say, “I’ll try my best to curb my tongue.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll find a good use for it. You understand t
hat this is about more than simply pleasing him in the bedroom. As his wife, you are his emissary. You must also please powerful people. Can you do that for him?”

  My stomach muscles clench and I nod.

  He pats my hand. “Good.”

  I shudder as he walks away from us and Pilate turns to me. “Father informs me it’s time to move the celebrations to our house. I must go. I can’t have my wife arrive first if I must wrestle her from her mother’s arms!”

  “Better my mother’s arms than that of a temple priest,” I laugh.

  Kissing me, he disappears into the crowd. We wait a little while and then set out in a group. Guests, servants, and strangers join the wedding party as we enter Rome. It is not far to his house and we spill into the courtyard armed with torches. Mother walks me to the foot of the stairs and Pilate descends, to a great cheer. Both tug me in opposite directions until he picks me up and carries me inside.

  Guests stream into the great hall as I follow him to his room. Mother enters with us. She unhooks my veil and slides my tunic from my shoulders, leaving me in a simple shift. Pilate watches from the far corner, the singing of our guests drifting through the walls. The door closes behind her. Music wafts across the yard and the lamp flames flicker in the breeze, stirring the bed curtains. He touches the side of my face. I lean into his caress, his fingers entwining in my hair. I move closer as he unties my sash. He lowers me onto the bed and his mouth covers mine. His touch is as flirtatious as his eyes, gently teasing as he sets my nerves to tingling.

  “So you didn’t want a seer after all,” I murmur in his ear.

  His tongue brushes my earlobe and he gently nips me. “No, I want a wife.”

  Dreams descend when passion drifts into sleep. I stand in a great hall alone. White pillars loom overhead as I move through them. The wind teases my tunic and cools my skin. A man sits before me on the throne. Pilate stands beside him and extends his hand. I take it, looking at the emperor with unease. It is not Tiberius. Sunlight drifts into darkness and gloom gathers. I glance around us and when I look at Pilate, blood trickles from the side of his mouth. Horrified, I see the sword protruding from his chest. The centurion behind him draws it out and he collapses at my feet.