“One gets used to things,” I sighed.
She began to gently massage my ankle and talk. “I’m sure that Aemilianus was a kinder man than Quintus. My husband is twenty years older than I am. He rides me like dog and has no idea how to give me pleasure. The man’s a brute. What about Aemilianus? Did you enjoy sex with him?”
My stomach tightened. I had never been asked this question before. It was not something proper Roman women talked about. “Maybe at times,” I lied, trying not to give myself away. “I thought of it as a duty.”
“It’s more than that. More than producing children, sex can be pleasurable, even ecstatic.”
“I wanted a child too badly. I didn’t think of it as pleasure.”
“That’s sad, Sempronia.” She continued to work on my ankle. “Do you ever touch yourself?”
“Touch myself?”
She pointed to her groin.
“Well, uh, you mean?”
She allowed a little grin. “Yes. The lower class talk about it—men and women—like it’s a common practice for everyone.”
I looked out the window not knowing what to say.
“I know, you’re thinking what kind of witch is this woman? Is it so strange though? It’s your body. Your sexuality.” She shrugged like it was nothing. “Did you ever hear of the cult of Bacchus that became the fashion in Rome shortly after the war with Hannibal? It was so un-Roman,” she laughed. “I wish I had lived then. I would have wanted to take part in a drunken orgy.”
“But it was illegal and—and...”
“Uncouth? I’ll bet it was exciting. I wonder what Cornelia would say about it. Dare I ask?”
I was both fascinated and disturbed. “I’m not sure. She might appreciate it as a part of our history.”
Laelia stopped her massage, but allowed my leg to rest on her thigh.
“Thank you, Laelia. You don’t know how good that feels.”
“My pleasure. Who will be joining us in the circle this week?”
“My sister-in-law Claudia and two other women. One is the guest speaker. She’s from Athens, a poet and midwife. Her name is Elephantis. The other woman is King Ptolemy’s daughter Tryphaena. She just turned sixteen, and the king wants her to have the experience of participating in one of Cornelia’s circles.”
“Is he the one who keeps asking Cornelia to marry him?”
“Yes. He’s too fat. I just hope his daughter comes alone.”
CHAPTER 63
Laelia and I arrived in Misenum in the afternoon. The other two guests were due the next day. I had come to take part in the circle, but I was more interested in talking to Cornelia about Gaius. I understood her position all too well, but I was worried that Gaius’ decision would cause a permanent rift in the family. My mother had already lost Tiberius. Losing Gaius to a disagreement seemed almost as tragic.
Prior to the evening meal I spent some time with Claudia and her two children Tiberius and Sempronia. Tiberius was now fourteen years old and Sempronia was eleven. Cornelia supervised their education just as she had with her own children, and they were terribly precocious and quite fun to be around.
After the evening meal I managed to get some time alone with Cornelia. We sat in the atrium beside a brazier, wrapped in thick wool mantles. She was on a bench. I was in my wheelchair. I had not seen her in several months. She was sixty-four now, and for the first time, possibly because of what she had written in her letter to Gaius, I thought of her as a woman approaching the end of her life. She asked me about my ankle and life alone. She never mentioned Aemilianus, or the situation with Gaius—until I brought it up.
“Gaius showed me the letter you wrote him.”
“I got no letter back. I assume it didn’t change his mind.”
“No and nothing will. That’s why I’m here.”
“To argue for him?”
“No. I feel the same way you do, but I haven’t taken so hard a line. And I wish you hadn’t.” I rarely gave her advice, but I felt I was someone she might listen to.
Cornelia’s eyes narrowed. “It’s how I feel, Sempronia. I wrote what I had to. What Tiberius did, despite his intentions, damaged the Republic and what it stands for.”
“But it wasn’t his fault.”
“No, it was mine. I encouraged him. And I haven’t forgiven myself. And I suppose you’re about to tell me I’m going to lose my youngest son—not to brutal thugs but to my own obstinance.”
“I just don’t want to see it create a divide in our family.”
Cornelia looked upward to the stars. “In this case, I’m afraid, I agree with Aemilianus. The good of a man, or a woman, is judged by how his or her actions benefit the state. All other actions must be subordinate to that.”
“You’re becoming a conservative, Mother. That’s not how you raised us. What Tiberius did was purposely designed to benefit the people in a way that would be good for the state. Gaius’ intentions are the same.”
“No matter what he hopes to do, the senatorial class will use their money and influence to stop him—maybe in the same way they stopped Tiberius. That will not be good for anyone.”
“But hasn’t our family always embraced the plebeian cause—win or lose? Only through a sustained effort can there be hope for any kind of balance between the plebeian and the senatorial orders.”
“You speak like a true Gracchi.” Her smile was in her eyes.
“I am a Gracchi. And so are you.”
She knew I was right. She bowed her head, then looked up at me. “I was hard on Gaius in my letter. I was angry when I wrote it. I won’t deny that. It’s what happens when we get older. We try to hold on to our children because we know there will soon be a time when we can’t.”
“It’s time to let go, Mother. I’m not his mother, but as his sister, I have. I just don’t want you to lose him at a time when you don’t have to.”
She looked off into the shadows of the atrium.
“Tiberius spoke to him in a dream.”
She faced me.
“It was before Gaius made his decision. Tiberius told him that he was trying to avoid his fate. That he had one life and one death to give. And as the son of Tiberius Gracchus, both must be in the service of the people of Rome. It’s what you told both my brothers and me all of our lives.”
“But not to the detriment of the state.”
“Tiberius did what he thought was good for the state. He could never have known what forces he might unleash. One never does.”
“I should have known. And I do now. It’s not worth it.”
I shook my head. “You and I are afraid of what could happen. Gaius, like all good Roman men, does not know fear. He believes the tribuneship is his fate. And I’m here asking you to accept it as I have.”
“I don’t want a second son killed by a mob.” She stood up, paused a moment, as though she might have one more thing to say, then walked away.
The abrupt end to the conversation felt cold. But I was confident that I had made a fair case for Gaius and that she would rethink her position—maybe not change it, but rethink it. It was a good talk. She just needed some time. And it was a sign that our relationship was changing. I was advising her, not the reverse.
The villa was huge. It had twenty bedrooms. I had never visited when they were all in use. I had not slept well at the inns we had stopped at during the trip south. Because of my ankle, Cornelia gave me a ground- floor bedroom. I went to my bedroom after my talk with her. I removed my supportive shoe and instead of soaking my foot like I usually did, I put on a gown and fell asleep.
I was awakened in the middle of the night by Laelia sliding in bed beside me. She whispered that she had been cold and snuggled up close to me. I welcomed her into my arms as I would a sister. She kissed me on the cheek and settled in against me.
I had not been touched in a comforting way since the first year of my marriage to Aemilianus. Laelia, in her sleep, gently held my body and entwined her legs with mine—and it felt good. Like s
omething I needed.
Laelia was gone when I woke up. I wondered if her visit had been a dream.
CHAPTER 64
Our guests arrived in a train of carriages, slaves, and bodyguards. It was still morning when we heard them coming up the road to the villa. Cornelia visibly wilted when she saw that Physcon was part of the entourage. It was rare to have women come from beyond Italy, and she was looking forward to spending time with these women she had never met. But she had planned for a circle entirely of women, and she had not invited Physcon. His oversized ego would stifle conversation, especially with Elephantis there to talk about women’s health.
Cornelia greeted everyone warmly. Physcon had gained even more weight since I had last seen him. Huffing and puffing from simply getting out of the carriage, he embraced Cornelia and kissed her on both cheeks. He then turned to his daughter who was being helped from the carriage. Tryphaena was a frail little thing, with large eyes lined with stibium and a peculiar fluid way of moving, like a dancer. She was a princess and wore a gold-threaded white silk robe with a diadem of white silk holding her straight black hair in place. She lifted her head proudly when her father said her name, and we all bowed to her. Physcon told us she had been promised to King Antiochus VIII and would wed within the year.
The last to exit the carriage was Elephantis. She was my age and quite tall, with long dark hair, free of braids or ribbons. I noticed her eyes right away. They were green, alive and observant. Cornelia, speaking in Greek, introduced herself, then me in my wheelchair, Claudia, and Laelia. The circle would similarly be conducted in Greek.
“It’s a great pleasure,” replied Elephantis, gazing into each of our faces. She was a tawny Greek with the pleasant open countenance of a thoughtful woman. A thin scar ran vertically up the right side of her face from her jaw to her eye. She must have been very beautiful prior to the injury, but the scar added something to her presence. Not something I could name; something I could feel. I was immediately interested in getting to know her.
We went into the house, with Laelia pushing my wheelchair, and settled down in the atrium around the pool. Although the sun shone brightly and provided for a pleasant day, four braziers were lit for additional warmth. Fidelia, who had moved to Misenum with Cornelia, brought out two trays of food—olives from the garden, boiled pigeon eggs sprinkled with cardamom, and a large plate of cheese and bread. A pitcher of fresh squeezed apple juice might have been the biggest treat.
While everyone else ate, Cornelia took Physcon aside in the library. I could see them from where I was sitting. Cornelia filled me in on the conversation later that day.
“We’re going to have a circle this afternoon,” she told the pharaoh. “Only women will take part.”
Physcon smiled like someone who always got what he wanted. His size alone provided a certain presumption. “What am I to do, Cornelia? Walk on the beach alone? I love these discussions. I think they show you at your best.”
Cornelia could not help smiling. Physcon’s capacity for flattery seemed unbounded. “Not this time. One thing that I overlooked as a mother was educating my daughter on the nature of marriage—the deeper nature.”
“I love it when you talk like that.”
Cornelia shook her head and continued. “It was a terrible oversight. Your daughter is about to marry a man much older than she is. We have women here from the ages of twenty-five to sixty-four to help inform her about married life. It’s something I have never talked about in my circles, and I don’t want any men here to complicate things when we do. So you can’t stay.”
“If that’s the case, my dear, I’ll leave right away,” said Physcon with surprising grace. “I know another house nearby where I can stay. My carriage will return in a week to get the women. But I’ve come a long way.” He smiled. “If this is my one chance to talk to you, then I have one request before I leave.”
“No, I will not marry you.”
Physcon laughed. “I want one kiss—given like it’s the last kiss you’ll ever give me.”
Cornelia smiled at first, then tipped her head. “Are you ill?”
“Although the weight I carry is not the best way to grow old, no, I’m not ill. But who knows, with the war going on at home, it’s possible I will not be back again. So in exchange for my early departure, kiss me like it’s the last.”
“You won’t be picking up your daughter?”
“I’ll simply send my carriage.”
“Then sit down. I can’t properly reach your face because of your girth.”
He laughed again, then sat in a chair he barely fit in. Cornelia came up close to him and smiled. “I have loved you all of these years, Physcon, but I never wanted a second husband. I hope you have understood that through all of your proposals and all of my refusals. I never had any intention of hurting you.” She leaned into him and pressed her lips against his. She stroked his temples and ran her fingers through his beard, extending the kiss with real sentiment. Then she stood back.
There were tears in Physcon’s eyes. He did love her and still did want to marry her. Instead of asking her yet again, he called for his slaves. Cornelia escorted him to the door. He turned to her as he walked out. “Thank you, Cornelia. If I never see you again, that kiss is how I want to remember you. Take good care of Tryphaena.”
“I wish all women had the opportunity Tryphaena has being here.”
“I’ll have her picked up in one week’s time.”
“Travel safely.”
Midafternoon we all went into the library. Cornelia’s library in Misenum was nearly as extensive as the one in my house. Using chairs and my wheelchair, Claudia, Laelia, Cornelia, Tryphaena, Elephantis, and I formed a circle in the center of the room. With two braziers it was warm enough to discard my heavy mantle. Each of us got a chance to describe ourselves to the group. Tryphaena said only that she was a Ptolemy and soon to be a queen
Elephantis spoke last. “I grew up outside Athens. My father was a physician. When my mother died, I assisted my father in his work. Much of it was delivering babies and helping women who were pregnant. By the time I was twenty I was delivering babies by myself. I have now delivered several thousand babies in all manner of circumstances and know the physical anatomy of a woman as well as anyone I’ve ever met.
“I’m also a writer,” she said looking directly at me. “I have written a book about women’s health, another about abortive herbs, two short collections of poems, and I’m currently working on a book about sexual intercourse.”
All of our eyes widened—even Tryphaena’s already very wide eyes. Cornelia, who had invited Elephantis to speak, might have been the most surprised by this last statement. Cornelia rarely spoke openly of sex and invariably shunned common sexual terms. Claudia and I were much like Cornelia, and Laelia had already proven she was not.
“We’ve never really talked about these more intimate things,” said Cornelia looking around at the other women. “But we’ve touched upon the nature of marriage. I, personally, had a fine husband, but I worry about the treatment of other wives and the clear iniquity of the Roman institution of manus—which is essentially ownership of the wife.”
“It’s much the same in Greece,” said Elephantis, “but because of my work with pregnant women, I’ve tried to include the act of procreation in the conversation. Our hesitance to speak about it, except in the most private way, prevents women from making progress in other realms.”
Cornelia turned to Claudia, Laelia, and me. “I think we all accept that a woman’s duty to the state is to produce children.”
“But there’s more to it than that, Cornelia,” said Elephantis. “Sex can enhance the relationship and also offer mutual pleasure. In my book I describe a variety of sexual positions. Several of which are not male dominant.”
Claudia seemed the furthest behind on the topic. “But isn’t that what a prostitute does? The things that married women don’t.”
Elephantis smiled gently. “To me, that’s archaic t
hinking. I’ve seen too much violence, too much forced sex, too many women injured simply because they did not speak up about their husband’s practices. Do they want to be lubricated before the man enters them? Are there positions that are more comfortable for them or that facilitate getting pregnant? Are there specific acts that enable orgasms for women who struggle to climax? These are the issues I want to address, and I think they get at the root of equality in marriage.”
Our little group of upper-class women was not entirely prepared for these kinds of insights. All of us who had been married knew a form of sex that was traditionally enacted in the dark. Certainly we had heard of or experienced more than one position for pleasing our husbands, but that was the man’s choice and we accepted that. Cornelia had read too much Greek literature not to know more than the rest of us, but at sixty-four, her discomfort with the topic showed. As did mine, I’m sure, and Claudia’s, but Laelia thirsted for this kind of openness, and Tryphaena, a virgin who had lived a cloistered life, was all ears.
Cornelia tried to change the subject. “What about your books of poetry? Did you bring any copies?”
But Laelia’s interest had been piqued and she pushed past Cornelia’s question. “Elephantis, are you familiar with the cult of Bacchus that spread through Rome sixty years ago? I’m curious what you think of that.”
Cornelia stiffened. She had been a child when some seven thousand men and women were arrested for immoral behavior. Her mother had spoken out against the cult.
“It’s called the cult of Dionysius in Greece and the cult of Isis in Egypt.” Elephantis glanced at Tryphaena, then at Cornelia. “They bring groups of men and women together to drink freely of wine and explore sexuality. It’s an orgiastic cult. I have seen it in Athens, but I’m a midwife. I tend to focus on the production of children and the health of the mother and her newborn.”
“What can you tell a woman like myself?” asked Tryphaena, engaging for the first time. “I have no experience at all, and my husband will be thirty years older than I am. Does intercourse hurt?”
Cornelia- the First Woman of Rome Page 23