Nadia came into the room with a tray containing two cups of posca. She placed the cups on the table, and with one dark look at Laelia, whose back was to her, quickly left the room.
Laelia never touched her posca. I sipped mine as she worked her way through one scroll after another.
“On what grounds will you base your request for divorce?”
“Anything I can find precedent for. Physical abuse is a possibility, or I could claim that I’m not attracted to men.”
“Is that how you feel?”
“Not really.” She looked at me with a sly grin. “I enjoy men and women, but I could lie.”
“You wouldn’t mention me would you?”
“Only if necessary.”
“Please don’t, Laelia. It could lead back to Aemilianus,” I whispered.
Laelia did not respond. She just kept opening one scroll after another, checking the contents, and moving on.
“This touches on something I need to talk to you about, Laelia. Do you mind?”
“Go ahead,” she said over her shoulder. “I’m listening.”
I wanted her to sit down and face me, but rather than ask her to do that, I spoke to her back. “You lied to me.”
She continued to the next niche of scrolls without even a glance over her shoulder. “Oh, and when was that?”
“You’ve known other women.”
She turned to me as though surprised. “Does that matter?”
“You told me otherwise.”
“I do what I want, Sempronia. And now I want to be divorced.”
“Then you have been with other women?”
I finally had her attention. She came over to me and knelt in front of my wheelchair. “Have you?” She placed her hand on my thigh.
“No, of course, not. I—I—I...”
“I wouldn’t mind.” She stroked my thigh and looked into my eyes. “Too much.”
“But I do. So can you please answer my question?”
“Yes,” she hissed, then leaned into me and kissed me on the mouth.
I pulled back from her. “And you’ve done the same things?”
“More than that,” she whispered, then stood up to retrieve the cloth bag she had come into the house with. “But here’s something I haven’t used with anyone—yet.” Laelia was doing it again, using her aggressive nature to dominate the situation. She opened the bag and withdrew a phallus sculpted in polished oak. It was attached to a belt so that it could be worn.
The thing horrified me. I quickly put my hands on the wheels of my chair and propelled myself out of the library.
Laelia remained in the library while I hid in the peristyle. After Nadia informed me that Laelia had left, I retired to my bedroom to cry. Laelia was different than I was. The sex did not matter to me. I just wanted to be held. And if it was by a woman, I wanted it kept private. Because, whether it was a sign of weakness or not, I did care how I was perceived and how I was talked about.
CHAPTER 78
While I nursed my wounds, uncertain if I wanted to see Laelia ever again, Gaius proceeded with the work he had planned. He began with his least controversial proposal, a bill to build several long roads across the Italian interior. His enemies in the Senate immediately labeled it as a way for Gaius to increase the voter turnout in Rome. It did have that potential, but it also enabled business operations to expand, particularly the transport of heavy products like timber and grain. And it also looked forward to Rome’s future. It seemed inevitable that all of Italy would one day be a unified Roman state. Working roads would be necessary for everything from troop movements to travel plans for the individual.
Gaius did more than propose and pass the bill. He went out into the countryside with a work crew and supervised the construction of several hundred miles of straight, level stone roads. His experience in the military building bridges and transporting huge stores of supplies and men was directly applicable. When the road encountered a valley or a deep watercourse, Gaius would either fill the valley or bridge the water in order to keep the road straight and easily navigable. He placed mile-markers along the road and erected stone pillars noting the distances to various destinations. Smaller, flat-topped stones were placed periodically on both sides of the thoroughfares for travelers to sit on or to mount a horse from without the assistance of a groom. The quality and efficiency of his work only added to the Gaius’ appeal to the populace.
While he did this work, he returned to Rome for a few days to introduce his next bill, a law that would require naming the consular provinces prior to electing the consuls who would serve there. The bill was aimed at the profligate use of the consular position. Not all, but many of the consuls of recent years had leveraged the position to increase their individual wealth, not govern. It was a very sensible law from any perspective but that of a senator—especially one who intended to add consul to his résumé. “Who is this demagogue?” shouted Calpurnius Piso from the floor of the Senate. “Will we even need a Senate when this man is through?”
After making his initial presentation to the Senate, Gaius left town to continue his work on the roads. Pomponius and Laetorius would supervise the contiones and educate the populace. Gaius had become very confident. The Assembly had yet to turn down any of his proposals. Nearly every one had been carried unanimously. He did not even need to be in Rome to assure their passage. Gaius did the necessary paperwork and left the rest to the other tribunes and his clients.
Gaius did, however, make it a point on this occasion to be in Rome the day of the vote so he could speak to the People’s Assembly. “Too many states throughout history have come to ruin through the greed and shortsightedness of their leaders,” he announced in his loud, powerful voice to some thirty thousand plebeians. “And that is exactly what I’m seeing in Rome. A recently elected consul chooses his province not because of necessary foreign policy, but because this king or that king told him of an opportunity to enrich himself there—either through bribes or illegal transactions.
“When my post took me to a foreign province, I comported myself in a way I judged to be to the advantage of all Romans, not to enable my own interests. I kept no extravagant table. I didn’t accepted gifts from those who might try to sway my opinion. If ever a prostitute or somebody’s pretty serving boy was solicited on my behalf, I told them to go away. I resisted every temptation and stuck to my duties. And that is how all Roman magistrates should conduct themselves. But that’s not what I’ve seen.
“Beware of the self-seekers,” he shouted gaining passion with every word. “If you use your intelligence and your common sense, you will realized there is not one politician who climbs onto this tribunal who doesn’t have an ulterior motive. All of us who address you are looking for something. No one stands here without expecting some personal gain. Even that so-called honorable man seeking a consulship—in the province of his choice—is to be doubted.
“As for myself, like these other men, I’m not here for nothing. But what I seek from you is not money but your good esteem and honor. Those who seek to persuade you to reject this bill are not after honor, but money from King Nicomedes or some such potentate.” This was a reference to a recent scandal in Asia. “Those who seek to persuade you to reject this bill are not after your good esteem, but a rich reward to put in their pockets. You might even believe that these men are above such things. But in truth, they are no more than agents for King Nicomedes or King Mithridates.” Gaius began to stalk back and forth on the tribunal, waving his hands and tugging at his toga theatrically. “When they leave for foreign lands, they are paid to further the interests of the local ruler, not Rome’s. Money, not honor, moves these men. Money, not esteem, is what these men seek.”
Somewhere behind the tribunal a gentle flute played. Gaius lifted his head on hearing it, then took a moment to gather himself. He took a great breath and lowered his voice and his intensity.
“There is a story of a Greek dramatist who bragged that he had been paid the fantastic sum of one golden tale
nt for a play that he had written, but Demades, the finest public speaker in all of Greece at the time, replied, ‘So you think it’s wonderful that your words have earned you a talent? I have been paid ten talents by a king to keep my mouth shut.’ And that’s just how it is now, fellow Romans,” stated Gaius. “If I wanted money, there are scores of men in Rome who would pay me to be quiet—to keep all of this hidden away.” He extended his arms as a gesture of openness, then grinned. “You can see how much I love money by how much I have to say.”
As always Gaius spoke with both common sense and the power of his commitment. The people loved it. And so did he. His work became, as it had been for Tiberius, all encompassing. It sucked him in. As far as I could tell, he was born for it, far surpassing his brother in oratorical power and administrative facility. And everyone saw it, including the quivering optimates. The bill passed that afternoon.
I went to Misenum shortly after the vote. I wanted to give Cornelia more than a letter describing what Gaius had achieved. I wanted to impress her that she must have faith in Gaius and that what he was doing was strengthening Rome. I had also been badly hurt by Laelia, and I needed to talk to Cornelia about that. I felt as though I had been taken advantage of and that I had been weak. And worst of all, I was afraid of losing my friendship with Laelia. That was how enchanting she was. Her sexual games were beyond me. But her beauty was disarming and her courage admirable. I wanted to see her take on the institution of manus. I wanted to give her use of my library. But mostly, I wanted her as a friend, not a sexual partner. And with Laelia I was not sure if that were possible.
I arrived at Cornelia’s villa three days after she received the letter saying I was on my way. “I was pleased to learn that you were coming,” she said upon embracing me. My chair was taken off its rack on the back of the carriage, and Cornelia pushed me into the house and through the expansive atrium to her garden where it was secluded and private.
We both knew that I was there to talk. She had become my most trusted friend and I hers. She sat on a bench that faced the bay. She loved to look out at the sea. She was approaching seventy years old. It showed in her face in the sunlight. She was aging, still clear of mind, but frail of body. A staunch populist all of her life, she had grown conservative in the years since Tiberius’ death. She fretted that Gaius was upsetting the natural order of things and that he would fall victim to the same forces that had taken his brother.
“You have to see what’s he done, Mother. I understand the position he’s put himself in could be dangerous. It shouldn’t be that way, but we know that it is. Still, all considered, Gaius is fulfilling himself with what is truly remarkable work.” I recounted the numerous bills I had already detailed in my letters. “He was born for this work. That’s all I can say, and there has never been another Roman like him. Your fear of the forces against him is not equal to what he brings to the people.”
“But you have also said that he’s being swept away by it, Sempronia. We have seen that before. Politics can become a fever, especially for a young man who feels as strong a sense of duty as Gaius does.” She shook her head. “For him to have done so much work in so short a time is clear evidence that the fever is already upon him. I have read your letters. His bills are all issues I would champion were they separate from my personal feelings. I thank the gods that his term is nearly up. I recall thinking that Carbo’s bill to open the tribuneship to multiple terms was a good idea. Now I am thankful it failed.”
“I would disagree with that, Cornelia. Truly. I see Gaius as a visionary. He sees a unified Italy in Rome’s future, and if he got the chance, he would make it happen.”
Cornelia looked into my face for an extended moment, measuring my words. “I would rather have your strong conviction than my fears, Sempronia. Yes, I dwell on his achievements when you write about them—and my pride swells. But he is my last remaining jewel.” She looked down at her hands, one on top of the other in her lap. “I will be glad when his term is done. That’s all I can say. How is Licinia?”
“She struggles with the pressure. Like you, she’s afraid of losing Gaius. But she says nothing, not a single complaint.”
“As is her duty.”
“And she knows that, but maybe a letter from you would help.”
“And what would I say? That I feel the same way.”
“No, remind her of her duty and that in many ways you are in the same position. Say whatever you can to give her support. She needs reassurance from someone other than me. Invite her to come here when Gaius is away from Rome.”
Cornelia nodded, then stared out at the bay as though thinking about my suggestion. Neither of us said anything for a long time.
“Laelia is planning to challenge manus,” I said suddenly. “She’s going to seek a divorce.”
“That’s brave of her, but she’s asking for trouble. I’ll be interested to hear what comes of it. What’s her reason for requesting the divorce?”
“She has no specific complaint except she can’t stand living with Quintus. She just wants to be rid of him. She’s been scouring Aemilianus’ library looking for any precedent she might use.”
“Who will get the children?”
“She hasn’t mentioned it.”
“Possession of the children. That figures in anything that happens. They are considered the father’s property.”
“She’s a different woman, Cornelia. I’m not sure how much she cares.”
Cornelia turned to face me. “What do you mean?”
“She’s very promiscuous.”
“After the circle with Elephantis, I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“She’s made advances at me.”
“At you? I don’t understand.”
“When we were here for the circle, she came to my bedroom in the middle of the night.”
“What did you do?”
“I let her into my bed.”
Cornelia stiffened.
“She held me and I needed it.”
Cornelia stood up and walked off to the edge of the garden.
“Part of the reason I’m here was to tell this. I haven’t felt good about what happened.”
Cornelia was clearly unsettled by my admission.
“It happened in a fit of loneliness. And happened again when we returned to Rome. But it’s left me confused about who I am, and I needed someone to talk to.”
Cornelia allowed a little sigh, then came over to me and knelt before my wheelchair. “I have known women who became intimate with other women, Sempronia. With husbands often gone long periods of time, wives can want other men or, perhaps feeling it’s not so great a transgression, seek comfort with another woman. It’s something I have struggled with myself. Not seeking another women, but accepting this practice among women of high birth. I made some progress with this during Elephantis’ visit, but I still don’t think it’s proper. Laelia is a lovely woman, and her freedom was apparent the day Elephantis asked us to undress in the bath. I imagine Laelia can be quite alluring if she wants to be.”
I bowed my head.
“Is this related to her wanting a divorce?”
“I don’t think so. She has spoken to me about the cult of Bacchus. She calls herself a hedonist and favors neither men nor women.”
“And will you see her again?”
“Intimately, no. But I want to keep her as a friend. I like her courage and have given her use of the library for her research.”
Cornelia stood, then bent over to embrace me. “My poor girl. I’m sorry life has been so hard for you.”
While still in her arms, I whispered. “And she knows about Aemilianus.”
Cornelia stood back. “Everything?”
“Just my part. It came out in a moment of weakness—but she understood and has promised to secrecy.”
“With every additional person who knows, the likelihood of it getting out increases many fold. Even with what?—nearly five years passed. Be wary, Sempronia. Please.”
&
nbsp; “I never told you. I got an anonymous note from whoever strangled him.”
“When?”
“Right after Polybius confronted us.”
“What did it say? Was it a threat?’
“No. Not exactly. It requested a favor.”
“Like what? Money?”
“It didn’t say. It’s been an awfully long time—years—and I haven’t heard anything since. That’s the only reason I’m telling you now. I think it’s over.”
“Let’s hope so. Whoever it was would want money, I’m sure.
I shook my head sadly. “Yes, probably. I’m just glad there’s been no follow-up.”
Cornelia sighed. “Now I must worry about Gaius and you. What’s a mother to do?”
“Let her children do what they must.”
CHAPTER 79
My conversation with Cornelia about Laelia relieved some of my guilt. Cornelia, who had a very conservative and upright approach to her personal bearing, could have responded quite differently. The process of getting older had pushed her political views to the center, but her personal views had softened. Tiberius’ death, it seemed, had made her more tolerant of the choices of others.
The next morning Claudia presented me with the dress she had been weaving. “It’s all done, except for the final fitting,” she said, holding it up for me.
“It’s beautiful, Claudia. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She had created an intricate design of zigzagging horizontal stripes of purple, yellow, and green. The cotton dress was considerably lighter than any of my wool dresses and perfect for the summer.
As she said, it was a tube dress, and we retired to the weaving room so that I could take off my stola and try it on. It was mostly shapeless, as most women’s dresses are. Sashes and brooches are invariably part of all women’s attires. Claudia fussed and fidgeted with it, pulling it up to my armpits, where I held it as she pinned on the purple straps that went over my shoulders to hold it up.
“I spoke to Cornelia about seeking a husband,” she said as she moved around me, making sure it fit just right.
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