And here in Rome I was served every day by Aballa, who was clearly suffering, but I had done nothing to discover what was upsetting her. I’d even been irritated by her air of sadness at times. I had accepted her services as my right, but taken no responsibility for her wellbeing. That would change, I vowed to myself. I would be a good mistress to her.
The next day I awoke determined to do something to help Aballa, but when I tried to question her as she dressed me her Latin was too meagre for us to communicate. Probably the best thing I could do would be to find someone to teach her Latin so she could tell me what was troubling her, I thought, somewhat exasperated by the obstacles.
Before I could think too deeply about that plan, Prisca’s slave was at the door with a message.
‘The domina would like to see you in the atrium as soon as you are dressed.’
What have I done wrong now? I grumbled to myself as I walked along the colonnade, shrinking against the wall as a shelter from the driving rain.
It turned out Prisca wanted me to go with her to the kitchen to talk through the day’s menu with the cook. So she hadn’t given up on me as a marriage prospect, it seemed; she was still trying to smooth out those rough edges. I thought of pointing out that so far Marcus had had no reason to comment on my deficiencies as a household manager (mostly because I didn’t actually manage anything), but I didn’t want to give her an opening to list those deficiencies he had remarked on. I listened patiently as she gave the orders for dinner, putting special emphasis on Marcus’s tastes.
‘Let’s have pork with a spicy sauce. What do you think, Claudia? Marcus is particularly fond of pork. I can’t believe he has stayed with us a week already; I can’t remember when he last spent so long under this roof. I wonder if there is something here that pleases him?’
Was she seriously hinting that he might be staying because of me? I almost laughed aloud.
That night, we ate inside on account of the weather. The slaves brought in one after another of Marcus’s favourite dishes.
When he remarked on it, Prisca said, ‘You have Claudia to thank for that. It was really she who devised tonight’s menu.’
What a liar! And transparent too, because rather than thanking me Marcus turned to Sabine to ask her what was flowering in her garden at the moment.
After the slaves had cleared away the dinner plates, my father cleared his throat and said, ‘I have some happy news.’
Prisca, beside him, looked serene, so clearly whatever announcement my father was about to make was neither unexpected nor unwelcome.
The table fell silent as we all watched him expectantly. For a moment I wondered if he was about to announce my engagement to Marcus, and my stomach flipped anxiously. Could that be why Prisca had arranged this meal to please him, to put him in a good mood ahead of the announcement? But surely they wouldn’t make it without Marcus’s consent. My consent, of course, wouldn’t matter. No one had consulted me when deciding to break my engagement to Rufus, nor when ordering me to Rome. My heart began to thud as my father, who seemed to be relishing our looks of anticipation, drew out the pause.
‘Lucius and Aurelia are to be married!’
My fingers tightened on my glass but I made sure to keep my face blank as relief was followed swiftly by a stab of disappointment. Even though I had been awaiting news of their betrothal since the day I overheard Prisca and Aurelia in the garden, and had even taught myself to accept it, I’d still nursed a secret hope that it might not happen. Beside me, Sabine gasped, and I realised that she had been taken by surprise. So her sister and mother did not include her in all their intrigues …
Lucius and Aurelia smiled at each other. There was no sign on Lucius’s face that he was anything other than delighted. I was glad now that I hadn’t said anything to him about the conversation I had overheard. What man wouldn’t prefer a woman as graceful and worldly as Aurelia to someone as gawky and awkward as me? I felt the burn of shame creeping up my cheeks. As I turned my head to conceal my pain, I saw that Marcus was staring at Lucius and his sister with a strange smile on his face. Was his smile one of relief that it hadn’t been our betrothal announced?
As if sensing my scrutiny, his gaze suddenly locked on mine. For a moment we just stared at each other. The strange smile was gone and I couldn’t read his expression. His eyes narrowed slightly, as if in response to something I had said. Embarrassed, I looked away.
Sabine had recovered from her surprise and was now congratulating the happy couple. ‘How exciting!’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands together. ‘When’s the wedding?’
My father looked at his wife. ‘I’ll consult the calendar,’ he said, ‘but I can see no reason to delay. I think the latter half of June is likely, after the Vestalia celebrations. The month of Juno is always auspicious for marriage.’ He put a hand on one of Prisca’s. ‘Our own wedding was in June.’
So my stepmother had got her way. It seemed she always did. Did this mean I could expect an announcement about my own betrothal to Marcus soon, despite his objections? My insides shrank at the thought. There was no denying he was handsome, but he was also arrogant and judgemental. I watched with a lump in my throat as Lucius tipped his head back to laugh at something Aurelia had said.
Had Father also agreed to set aside the adoption of Lucius? I wondered. He must have, for Prisca to be wearing her satisfaction so plainly.
Of course, if Marcus had established a good relationship with Father on his own, Prisca wouldn’t have decided he needed to marry me.
I fell into step beside him as we left the dining room.
‘I don’t understand you,’ I said. ‘If you would just be agreeable to Father, you could achieve your goals so much more quickly.’
‘What goals are those?’ He looked at me curiously, and I realised that he must be surprised to hear me speak of his goals as if I knew them. Of course, I had only overheard them.
‘I presume you wish to become a senator,’ I said flippantly, to disguise my knowledge. ‘Isn’t that what all men wish for?’
‘I don’t know about all men,’ he said, ‘but yes, I do wish to become a senator one day.’ He was looking thoughtfully at Lucius, who was playfully feeding Aurelia a date. ‘But I plan to achieve that on my own merits rather than using a bride for a stepping stone.’
It was almost my own thoughts, word for word, yet instead of agreeing with him I burst out: ‘But it’s the way things have always been done.’
He paused to let two slaves who were carrying stools from the dining room pass in front of us, then replied, ‘I’ve never seen that as a good reason for doing anything. You’re arguing against the possibility of progress.’
‘If you want progress, you need the power to change the status quo,’ I countered. ‘And if your goals are worthy, surely it’s better to achieve them than not, whatever means you use. Why are you so proud?’
‘Why are you not?’ he retorted swiftly. ‘You’re a beautiful, intelligent girl, yet you seem content to let my mother use you to advance my interests.’
I almost choked to hear him say it aloud. He knew that I knew! And suddenly it occurred to me that he might think I was trying to persuade him to marry me! To cover my humiliation, I spoke sharply. ‘What choice do I have? I don’t have the freedom of a man. I must do my duty. Like Aurelia is doing hers.’
‘Aurelia …’ He smiled. ‘Aurelia is lazy. She likes an easy life. Is that what you want?’ He looked at me, considering. ‘I’d suggest you be more proactive, like my mother. She doesn’t wait around for other people to tell her how to live her life. She knows how to get what she wants. Do you know what you want, Claudia?’ He didn’t wait for an answer, but walked away.
What did I want? I wanted to be loved and admired. I wanted to marry the kind of man who compared me to a goddess, not one who suggested I should be more like his mother.
Then it dawned on me. I should be more proactive, he said. Of course: he must have seen the look Lucius and I had exchanged the ni
ght before. He was telling me I shouldn’t have let his mother make a match between Lucius and Aurelia when I loved Lucius myself. I should have acted. But what did it matter now? It was done and it couldn’t be undone.
Hearing a ripple of laughter behind me, I felt an urgent need to get away, to avoid having to pretend to rejoice over Lucius and Aurelia’s engagement. I slipped into the library, which was lit with a single lamp.
There I picked up one scroll after another, reading a few passages before discarding them. I had found The Iliad and was rereading an episode in the adventures of the warrior Achilles when a shadow fell across the page. It was Lucius.
‘What a surprise to find you here with your head in a book,’ he joked.
‘It is my favourite place in the house,’ I confessed.
‘It will become my favourite place too if I can be sure of always finding my sister here.’ He seemed to put particular emphasis on the word sister. ‘I was just returning this,’ he said, holding up a scroll. ‘Apollonius’s Argonautica, the tale of Jason and his quest for the Golden Fleece. Have you read it?’
I shook my head. He held it out and I took it, but instead of releasing it into my grip he said, ‘Claudia, I … I might have wished for something else. But I respect your father’s will. I’ll do my duty and gladly but …’ He swallowed. ‘I just wanted you to know.’
I forced myself to meet his eyes, knowing that my cheeks must be flaming. For several long seconds we gazed at each other, alone in the small room, the scroll held between us.
At last he let the scroll go. ‘The third book is particularly fine. Farewell, Claudia.’
There was a finality to his parting words, like the closing of the door.
The sun had returned to the sky the following morning, but my mood was still grey. In the dappled green light of the willow I read the adventures of Jason and the Argonauts as they journeyed to Colchis to bring back the Golden Fleece. Lucius was right: it was a gripping tale. But the mood changed in the third book, the one he had particularly commended. With one hand pressed to my lips I read how Jason and Medea, the princess of Colchis and a sorceress, fell in love. Medea was torn between her duty to her father and her love for Jason: he captivated her gleaming eyes; and her heart within grew warm. My skin prickled and for a moment I saw in my mind a pair of black eyes … No! Where had that vision come from? Not black eyes but blue; the lines perfectly expressed how it felt when Lucius looked at me. I read on to the description of the pair smiling with the light of love beneath their radiant brows. See? Definitely Lucius — there was no chance of Marcus ever looking at me with the light of love in his eyes.
Had Lucius read these lines and thought of me? I wondered. Was that why he had recommended this book, to tell me he knew how I felt and shared my feelings?
The thought gave me a pleasant kind of melancholy, but I was not quite done feeling sorry for myself, so I was glad that for once Prisca let me off the hook when it came to that evening’s after-dinner entertainment. Probably she sensed that I would perform badly and give Marcus more reason to criticise her choice of bride. If only she knew that he was so far from wanting me himself he had as good as told me I had been a fool to let Lucius go! (Come to think of it, it was hardly chivalrous of him to be so eager to get rid of me.)
‘Marcus, why don’t you read to us this evening?’ she suggested when Aurelia had used her fingers to capture the last of the honey from the platter that had borne our dessert.
‘Certainly, Mother, if you wish. Something from The Odyssey, perhaps?’ A slave was sent to the library for the appropriate scrolls, and Marcus scanned them for a few minutes till he reached a passage that pleased him. ‘Ah yes, this,’ he said, and began to read.
My breath fled from my chest as I recognised that he was reciting the story of Penelope, the part where she wove a shroud for her father-in-law to keep her suitors at bay. It was the very passage I had been thinking of when I had first understood that Prisca was grooming me as a bride for her son. It must be a sign that he had chosen to read this; the gods must have meant for me to glean some message in it. Or if not the gods, then Marcus. But what? There was a silence in the room, as if I was not the only one puzzling over his choice of passage.
Penelope had used her wits, and even though in the end her ruse was discovered, she managed to delay and her faithfulness was rewarded when Odysseus returned to her. If I could delay the marriage between Aurelia and Lucius, would Lucius return to me? I looked at him from under my lashes and found that he was looking back at me. I quickly dropped my eyes.
When I looked up again he had hold of Aurelia’s hand. ‘Would you wait ten years for me?’ he said.
‘Perhaps, but I would need another method than Penelope’s for putting off my one hundred and eight suitors; I wouldn’t waste three minutes of my time on weaving.’
I turned my head from them only to stumble into Marcus’s black gaze. This time I did not turn away.
You say that I must know what I want and not wait for other people to tell me what to do, I accused him silently. But how, if what I want is impossible? Rather than despairing, I felt angry at Marcus for expecting something of me I wasn’t capable of achieving. I glowered at him until he was the one to duck his head.
Within a few days of Father announcing the betrothal, Lucius left for Bononia to carry the joyful news to his mother and sisters in person. He hoped to be able to bring them back to Rome with him for the engagement party, to be held a fortnight hence.
‘What a fine fiancé I have,’ Aurelia complained good-naturedly as we sat out on the terrace one morning. ‘Our engagement has made him flee Rome as soon as he could.’
With summer approaching the air was warmer every day, and we routinely sat outside now rather than gathering in the atrium.
‘Oh, Aurelia, I’m sure it’s not that,’ Sabine protested. ‘It’s good that he cares so much for his mother and sisters, don’t you think?’
‘Of course it is, Sabine, I was only joking.’
‘I wish you weren’t getting married again, though,’ Sabine continued. ‘It’s nicer when you’re here. And now Marcus has gone back to his own house when I was so enjoying having him stay here.’
‘Poor Sabine, you’re frightened of being left alone with Mother, aren’t you?’ Aurelia teased. ‘Don’t worry, you’ll have Claudia here to protect you.’
‘That’s true,’ said Sabine. ‘Though maybe not for long.’ She gave me a sly look, which I ignored.
But Prisca was in as good a mood as I had ever seen her, whether because she had succeeded in arranging Aurelia and Lucius’s engagement or because she liked having something to organise, I couldn’t tell.
‘Invitations must be sent out immediately,’ she said, ‘seeing as the party is only two weeks away.’ She insisted that Aurelia help her to compile the guest list, even though she already knew exactly who was to be invited and who wasn’t, then sent for a scribe to write the invitations.
‘Now for the decorations. Of course, if the weather continues fine we’ll spend the time before the banquet in the garden.’
‘But the garden isn’t quite large enough for elephants,’ Aurelia said regretfully. She lay back on the couch and looked up at the sky dreamily. ‘I’ve heard that giraffes, while very tall, take up less space than elephants. Would a giraffe be too excessive?’
‘Decidedly,’ said her mother. ‘We’ll have nightingales in cages. Some peacocks wandering about.’
I was so thrilled by this talk of elephants and giraffes, even though Prisca had dismissed the idea, that I decided to write to Aunt Quinta at once: how she would love to know the details of a party at a Roman senator’s house. I hurried to the tablinum to fetch some parchment and a quill.
As I walked along the colonnade, I heard a sob, then a murmur in a language I didn’t understand. ‘Andalos!’ Following the sound, I found Aballa crouching in the shadows. But what was Andalos? Could it be the name of her home?
Ashamed, I remembered how
I had sworn I would discover what was troubling her and then promptly forgotten after one failed conversation. But how could I find out when I couldn’t speak to her? I didn’t even know where she came from or what language she spoke! Theodotus had found her, Sabine had said. I supposed I could ask him what her language was and if there was someone else in the house to translate for us.
I didn’t want to summon him in front of the others, though, so I would have to wait until I could talk to him alone.
The following morning, when Prisca and Aurelia were in the kitchen discussing menus for the banquet, I came across Theodotus in the atrium, directing some slaves who were cleaning the silver.
‘Theodotus, do you know what language Aballa speaks?’
The steward turned to look at me. ‘It would be Gaulish, Miss Claudia.’
So that was where she was from: Gaul.
‘Is there someone in the house who speaks both Latin and Gaulish?’
‘I’m sure there is. May I ask why?’
Actually, I’d rather you didn’t …
‘I’m just curious to know her history,’ I said aloud.
He gave me an odd look, as if to say, Why are you interested in a slave’s history?, but replied, ‘As you wish. I’ll send Aballa to you with someone who can interpret her words.’
‘Thank you. I’ll be on the terrace.’
Theodotus gave the order to one of the slaves busy cleaning, and she sprang to her feet and disappeared through the narrow doorway to the working quarters.
The girl who approached the terrace about ten minutes later seemed vaguely familiar. She had lank hair and thin features, and her arms and legs sprouted from her tunic like twigs. I was trying to work out where I’d seen her before when she said, ‘I am Aelia, miss, from the weaving room. Theodotus sent me.’
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