The Last King of Rome

by Laura Dowers

  ‘And while you would be visiting every brothel in the city, I’d be ploughing my new wife.’

  ‘What I’d give to have a life like yours.’

  ‘What’s so wonderful about my life, Manius?’

  ‘You really want to know?’ Manius said, suddenly angry. He splayed his left hand and with his right, began counting off the fingers. ‘You’re the grandson of one king, the nephew by marriage of another. You’re being lined up to be the next king through a highly advantageous marriage. Top that off with your nobility and your wealth, all of which you’ve got without having to lift a finger to get them. Now, stop your whining, will you?’

  ‘That’s what you think, is it? That because I’ve got gold and people to do what I want, I should be content?’

  ‘Yes, actually, I do.’

  Lucius hurled his cup to the ground. It shattered into pieces, drops of wine sprinkling the flagstones. ‘Then you really have no idea.’

  Lolly knew about curses. She had listened, rapt, when her grandmother had spoken, just once, of the curse the Tarquins suffered under. The story fascinated her, how the woman had called on the goddess Poena to hear her words and how the goddess had responded. She remembered how Tanaquil had trembled as she spoke of the shade that had appeared, how it had entered her father and found the Tarquin children. She had never known her grandmother to be frightened of anything, but Lolly had seen how even mention of Poena’s dark agent had made Tanaquil draw her shawl tighter around her shoulders and pray at the household shrine for their gods to protect them. That was power, Lolly thought, to call on a god and have your greatest desire granted. She wanted to have power like that. After all, she had none as the daughter of Servius Tullius and she would have even less, if she wasn’t careful, as the wife of Arruns.

  She knew what she had to do.

  Lolly opened the small chest she kept hidden under her bed, moving aside the dried flower crown she had put on Lucius’s head all those years ago and the lock of his hair she had picked up off the floor after it had been cut, and took out a small rectangular piece of hammered-thin lead. She unclasped the brooch that pinned the shoulder of her dress together, the fabric falling down to expose her left breast, the nipple hardening quickly in the cold stone room. She angled the sharp pin and began etching the words of the curse she had devised to the goddess Discordia into the lead, speaking them softly as she wrote.

  ‘May Tullia Prima, first daughter of Servius Tullius, never find pleasure in the marital bed. May her womb dry up and shrivel. May her body bleed in vain. May her husband be disgusted by her person. May his phallus shrink and never seed her womb. May Tullia Prima never conceive a child of Lucius Tarquinius. Goddess, hear me.’

  She kissed the tablet then stabbed the pin into her breast. The wound produced a single drop of blood. She rubbed her finger over it, spreading it over her white skin and pressing out more. Her finger wet and red, she pressed it to the lead tablet, smearing the red liquid over and into the words. Then she folded the long edge of the lead over and over until it became a thin tube and this she stuck into a crack in her wall.

  There, it was done. Tullia was cursed and her marriage would be barren. Lolly licked her finger, tasting the metal tang of her own blood. If anyone was going to have a child by Lucius, it would be her. On that, Lolly was determined.

  The domus had been decorated with flowers and herbs. Archways were decked with green leaves and blossom picked that morning from the garden, and incense was burning in each room, the cloying smell wafting throughout the domus as the guests entered.

  Lucius, sitting on a stool in the corridor of the garden, watched as they came into the courtyard and mingled amongst themselves. They were all dressed in their best clothes, the products, no doubt, of recent trips to the forum to visit silk merchants’ shops, and many of the women, and some of the men too, wore elaborate, expensive gold and silver necklaces and bracelets. All were smiling and laughing. As if there’s anything to smile and laugh about, Lucius thought, being married off to the King’s daughters as if me and my brother are a pair of prize bulls Servius wants to put out to stud.

  Lucius had woken that morning hoping the marriages would not go ahead. But Servius had returned to the domus after a visit to the temple where he had sacrificed a sheep to ensure it was a propitious day for his daughters to be married. With a smile, he assured both Lucius and Arruns that the priest had declared the dead animal’s entrails to be good and the marriages would go ahead. Arruns had told Servius he was very glad; Lucius had said he would go and get ready.

  And now, there was Servius, striding into the courtyard with his arms wide, greeting everyone with a smile. Tanaquil and Tarquinia followed. Tarquinia seemed determined to show them all up by overdressing, Lucius thought sourly. She wore a wig she had bought specially and it was ridiculous, bright orange and studded with hairpins and combs. Her dress was a vulgar choice too, dark purple embroidered all over with intricate gold thread that clashed with her wig and a crimson shawl edged with an Etruscan pattern. No doubt she thought it looked queenly.

  Lucius heard Servius mention his name and to pre-empt a summons rose from his stool. He wasn’t about to be whistled for like the family dog. Moving to the small crowd gathered around Servius, he fixed a smile on his face and accepted as gracefully as he felt able the ebullient congratulations. Tarquinia asked him where Arruns was, breaking off as his brother came down the stairs two steps at a time, a heavy fold of his toga falling off his shoulder, and apologising for his lateness. Tarquinia fussed over him, putting the cloth right and smoothing his hair.

  A collective aahh went up as Tullia and Lolly entered the courtyard. They were in their wedding clothes; immaculate white dresses that hadn’t yet been washed to grey and flame-coloured veils covering their faces. Through her veil, Lucius saw Tullia give him a shy smile. He didn’t return it.

  Servius clapped his hands and ushered the guests through to the atrium. Lucius lingered in the courtyard, knowing it would take a few minutes for the guests to find their seats and for the priest to get into position. Arruns, who had started after Servius, halted and turned back.

  ‘You could at least smile, Lucius,’ he admonished.

  ‘What, and be a grinning fool like you?’

  Lucius registered the hurt look on Arruns’s face and felt a little ashamed. He hadn’t meant to mock his brother so, not really. He just wished Arruns wasn’t so ready to please Servius all the time. It always seemed to him that when it came down to it, Arruns always sided with Servius, leaving Lucius to stand alone.

  ‘Forgive me, brother,’ he said, putting his hand on Arruns’s arm. ‘I’m in a foul mood. Ignore me.’

  ‘But why? You should be happy.’

  Lucius wished he could explain why he felt the way he did but he didn’t really understand it himself. He seemed to feel angry all the time without it being directed at anyone or anything in particular and even he was growing tired of it. ‘Arruns, do you ever think of the family curse?’ he asked.

  Arruns paled. ‘No, I don’t and you shouldn’t either. It was so long ago.’

  ‘But I feel it. I feel it on me, in me.’ He gave an involuntary shudder.

  ‘You’re imagining it,’ Arruns said, but his tone was unconvincing. ‘Nothing awful has befallen us, has it? We are all well and today is a happy day, Lucius, the start of a new tomorrow. Please, think no more of it. For me?’

  Lucius forced a smile and nodded. ‘Very well, just for you, brother, I will try to enjoy the day.’

  Footsteps sounded on the flagstones. ‘Come on, you two,’ Servius waved them towards the atrium impatiently, ‘we’re all waiting.’

  With one last glance at one another, Lucius and Arruns made their way to their brides.

  He had tried, he really had, but Lucius had not been able to remain sanguine. He had put on a good show throughout the ceremony, even returning Tullia’s smiles, but he had had to pretend to be happy for too long and his patience had grown thin. By the tim
e the wedding feast was coming to an end, Lucius hated everyone and everything there.

  The wine had flowed freely and many of the guests had forgotten their sense of decorum and were truly enjoying themselves. The atrium long since abandoned, the wedding party had spilled throughout the domus and into the garden. Some male guests had brought dice and played drinking games while their wives discussed the furnishings and the dresses their fellow female guests were wearing.

  Lucius gulped down his wine. He held out his cup for it to refilled and watched as Tullia timidly did the same. He looked at her as the wine was poured. Tullia’s cheeks and nose were bright red, her neck and chest a scarlet blotch. Her pupils were dilated and her eyelids struggled to stay open. Lucius knew she wasn’t used to drinking so much wine and he wondered how she would behave when really intoxicated. Would she be one of those women who lost her inhibitions or one of those who simply fell asleep? He was a little surprised she had indulged at all. Perhaps she’s scared, he thought with relish. His eyes moved downward over the scarlet flesh to the high mounds of her breasts. They were firm beneath the dress. He would enjoy them later. As a wife, Tullia would do, he supposed.

  Someone started to clap and the guests quietened. Men held their dice in their hands or left them lying on the table and women ceased their chatter. Servius was on his feet and smiling stupidly at the company, like his daughter, having partaken rather too freely of the expensive, full-bodied wine.

  ‘I thank you all for your blessings on this day and for sharing this important event with us.’ He looked down at Tarquinia seated beside him and held out his hand. She slipped hers into it. ‘It has been truly wonderful. But now it is time for my sons, for so they truly are, to take their wives to their beds.’

  There was cheering and clapping and some hearty, dirty laughter that filled Lucius with loathing. Servius gestured for Lucius and Tullia, Arruns and Lolly to rise from their couches. Arruns was the first to obey. He clambered off the couch and held out his hand to Lolly. Tullia looked at Lucius as if waiting for him to move before she would. Lucius took his time, finishing his cup of wine before dabbing his mouth with a napkin. Then, and only then, did he rise. Tullia hurried to do the same.

  The guests followed them to their bedrooms. They arrived at Arruns’s bedroom first and Lucius had to witness his brother taking Lolly unsteadily in his arms and carrying her over the threshold of his bedroom door. As the bedroom door closed, the guests all cheered.

  Then they moved along the corridor, turned the corner and the party arrived at Lucius’s cubiculum. Her cheeks dimpling, Tullia put her arms lightly around Lucius’s neck and almost jumped into his arms. He had to react quickly to avoid dropping her.

  ‘Am I too heavy?’ she whispered in his ear.

  He shook his head, and paying no further attention to the shouts of ‘Good luck’ and ‘Enjoy yourself, lad’, carried his wife over the threshold.

  Lucius dropped Tullia onto her feet as soon as the door was closed.

  ‘I’m glad that’s over,’ Tullia said, laughing nervously and straightening her clothes. ‘I know it’s part of the ceremony but I was dreading it.’

  She was looking at him, her eyes wide, seeking some kind of affirmation. By Jupiter, she was so damned needy.

  He quickly untied her knotted belt and threw it on a stool. ‘Get undressed,’ he said, gesturing at the rest of her clothes.

  Tullia took a quick look at the bed against the wall. Her chin wobbled, her face crumpled, and she began to cry.

  ‘Why are you crying?’ he asked harshly. Tullia sniffed and he could see she was trying to stop her tears. Her chest shuddered and her throat tightened, but she didn’t answer him. ‘Just get undressed, will you?’

  Tullia turned her head to the side and hooked her fingers under the shoulders of her dress. The soft fabric slid off her body, pooling at her feet. She paused for a long moment, seemingly undecided what to do next. She was undressed but not yet naked. She glanced up at him. Lucius met her eye and gestured she was to continue. His heart was beating fast, thrilled to be seeing the girl he had known all his life doing his bidding and exposing her soft pink flesh to his unrelenting gaze. Tullia unwrapped the linen from around her breasts and dropped it on the floor. Her nipples stood up prominently. He watched as she hooked her fingers into the fabric of her subligaculum and dragged it down over her slim hips and thighs, letting it fall to her feet. Now, she was naked and trying feebly to cover the dark triangle of curly hair between her legs with one hand while the other crossed her breasts.

  Lucius enjoyed her embarrassment. He kept her standing there while he undressed, she turning her head away. He climbed onto the bed and propped himself up on his elbow, his long legs stretched out. Still, she kept her eyes on the floor.

  ‘Tullia,’ he said, a wicked smile on his lips, knowing she would have to look at him. Her eyes widened as she saw him in all his nakedness, his cock already beginning to swell in anticipation. ‘Come here.’

  She hesitated for a moment but then obeyed. Without him needing to tell her, she lay down beside him, her arms by her sides, her eyes staring at the ceiling. He looked down along the length of her body. He moved his hand to her stomach, laying it flat, and felt the heat of her skin seep into his own. He moved gently, massaging the muscles he could feel tensing, creating wider circles each time until his fingers brushed over her hip bones and gripped, digging into the flesh. Intent on what his hand was doing to her, he was surprised when Tullia’s hand caressed his cheek.

  ‘I’m so happy if I please you, Lucius. Father told me I would. I’m so happy to know he was right.’

  Servius again telling him what he would like! Lucius slapped her hand away. She gave a cry of shock and tears threatened to fall again. I’ll give you something to cry about, he thought, angling his body over her and pushing her legs apart with his knee. His fingers explored her roughly and she twisted beneath him as he tried to get his index finger into her. He pressed himself against her, his penis prodding her folds. Using his hand to guide himself to her centre, he pushed into her but only just the tip. He saw her lips curl into her mouth at the slight penetration, gave her the smallest of moments to stop moving against the strangeness of the sensation, and then thrust hard. She cried out, loud and sharp in the otherwise silent room and he felt her hymen break and heat and wetness engulf him. She was crying freely and loudly now as he moved in and out of her. He was not gentle. When he had finished a few minutes later, he collapsed on the bed beside her, panting. Her sobs had turned to whimpers and the noise annoyed him.

  ‘Shut up,’ he said, saying it again when his words seemed to have no effect. He turned his back to her, slammed his head against the pillow and fell asleep to the sound of his new wife’s crying.

  12

  Tarquinia had never imagined there were so many people in Rome. The Field of Mars was big, the largest open space inside Rome, and yet it was filled almost to bursting. The only uncrowded space was where she stood, a few metres from the altar. By her side stood Tanaquil, who had been strangely quiet all morning, in fact, for several days now. Tarquinia looked at her mother from beneath lowered lids, blinking because the smoke from the brazier fires was making them smart. She thought Tanaquil looked a little pale and tired.

  ‘Are you all right, Mother?’ Tarquinia asked.

  ‘Of course I am,’ Tanaquil answered quickly. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘You’ve been very quiet these last few days.’

  Tanaquil shook her head. ‘I’ve been thinking, that’s all. It’s a great thing Servius has done, daughter. I almost believed he wouldn’t manage it but look.’ She gestured at the crowd.

  ‘He’s very proud,’ Tarquinia said, remembering the previous night when Servius had made love to her with an energy she had not experienced before. She knew his excitement about today had been its cause.

  Servius had worked so hard and so long for this day. This reform had meant sleepless nights, oil lamps burning long into the night as
he and his secretaries scribbled down their ideas and turned them into something the senate would approve. And all that work culminated in this magnificent ceremony which would change Rome forever: the inauguration of the census.

  And yet, despite her pride in her husband, despite this moment of history Servius was creating, Tarquinia just wanted to go home. She had awoken that morning to a dull pain in her left temple. She had suffered with terrible headaches ever since her first pregnancy but they had worsened over the past few years. Where once she had suffered maybe one or two migraines a year, now she would suffer four or five. And the symptoms were more painful too. Often, it felt like her brain was swelling and pressing against the inside of her skull. At other times, she would have to lie down on her bed, blocking out the sunlight coming through the narrow window because any kind of light hurt her eyes. Nothing could chase away the pain entirely but Nipia made a soothing lavender balm that she would massage into Tarquinia’s temples and which at least gave her a little ease. Her family had little sympathy for her headaches. She didn’t think they even believed her when she said her head was killing her. They merely thought she was looking for sympathy and attention. Neither Tanaquil nor Servius would think well of her if she were to say she had a headache and wanted to go home.

  She wouldn’t do that to Servius, anyway. If she left now, before the ceremony was barely underway, it would look bad for him. When could she decently leave? she wondered. There was the offering to Mars, that would take at least half an hour, followed by the sacrifice of the ewe. Oh, how she wished she could go before that, she was feeling sick already. It would be almost two hours, she decided, two hours before she could leave and go home. Her head would really be killing her by then. She closed her eyes, willing the dull ache away but knowing it was useless.

  Arruns came up to her. ‘You’re looking a bit peaky, Aunt, are you feeling all right?’

  ‘Just one of my headaches coming on,’ she said as a wave of dizziness hit her.