A Villa Far From Rome

by Sheila Finch

  “So that’s to be my place of exile.”

  The Roman girl had come to stand beside him, clutching a blanket tightly around her. Her face was grey, her eyes as lusterless as one who’d lain abed many days with fever. She looked very young and very scared. In spite of his fury at what had happened, he sensed that she was as much a victim of Nero’s cunning as he, though the reason that lay behind it was not clear to him.

  “That’s my home.”

  “A land of barbarians –”

  Annoyed, he cut her off. “Neither you nor I asked for this. But since we have no power to alter our destiny, I suggest we face it with civility.”

  “I will never give up till my child gains her rightful place in Rome.”

  Her voice shook. In the dusk, she seemed smaller and thinner than he remembered from that terrible night he’d been forced to take her as his wife. Hardly more than a child, and only a few years older than Amminus – A jolt of fire raced through him at the thought.

  Sailors came up to the bow, mooring ropes in hand, and he had to step aside as they made preparations for docking. The girl went away.

  And now – there, on the dock in the flickering light of the lanterns – he could see the tiny figures of Breca and his younger son, Catuarus, waving. Light caught the glint of silver from the torc she wore round her neck, eight strands of copper and silver twisted to a delicate chain. He’d given it to her on their handfasting day, token of his love. Someday, he’d give her a better one, made of gold.

  The ship bumped the dock, people crowded on deck, sailors threw ropes, others on land caught them, made them fast – He was home.

  “Togi, I knew you would come today! I read it this morning in the omens. Thank Sulis for her protection!” Laughing, tears of joy streaming down her cheeks, Breca ran towards him as he stepped down onto the dock. She threw herself into his arms. “Welcome – Oh, welcome home!”

  Her familiar smell, woodsmoke and lavender, filled his nose. He closed his eyes against the ache that suddenly assaulted him and embraced the wife of his heart.

  “Catuarus, come.” Breca pulled out of his embrace. “Greet your father!”

  He opened his eyes and saw his son hanging back, staring at the scene on the dock. Through the turmoil of Roman sailors unloading boxes and chests, barrels of wine some local dignitary had ordered, and Regni scurrying to take up the burden, he saw Gallus helping the Roman girl step over the side of the boat onto the dock; the Greek waited his turn, carrying the child.. He felt as if he’d turned into a statue on the Via Appia: Togidubnus the Trapped. There was no good way to handle this.

  “Togi?” Breca said.

  The Roman girl stood between the legionary and the Greek, her face a sullen mask. The child sucked on her thumb. Nobody spoke.

  “The emperor wishes us to have guests. The Lady Antonia Plautina and her daughter.” He switched to the Old Tongue of his childhood and spoke low enough that only she could hear. “Please, Breca, accept this for now. I will explain it later.”

  She turned her gaze on him, her eyes that he knew from all their years together could read his soul. There were no secrets between them. A long moment passed. She held out her hands to the newcomers. When she spoke, her voice was cool, her Latin precise.“Be welcome in my house.”

  Antonia glanced from one to the other of them. She ignored the outstretched hands of his wife and walked up to Togidubnus. She slipped her arm through his, her eyes burning him. He was astounded by this open challenge and couldn’t think fast enough of a way to respond that wouldn’t make the situation worse.

  Catching hold of Breca’s hand, he led the way over the bridge across the little stream, aware of how stiff his beloved wife’s body felt next to his

  * * *

  One battle did not need to be fought that night.

  “I will need a large room to retire in,” the Roman girl announced, when they stood in the atrium. “With space for my child, and an anteroom for my servant.”

  Breca’s eyes widened, but she made no comment. His chest tightened in anticipation of the task to come, explaining political necessity which could not be adequately condoned..

  Grateful for the reprieve, he summoned a serving woman who led them away. Alone, he followed Breca into their private quarters. The room was dimly lit from one oil lamp; in its light he saw the familiar wall hangings and the bed where she’d conceived both his sons. His love for Breca and his love for his home ran together like a torrent of spring-melt and swept his heart away. He reached for her to take her into his arms, but she evaded him, moving to and fro in the bed chamber, carrying blankets, re-arranging heaps of clothes.

  She‘d said nothing since greeting the Roman party, deliberately avoiding him, busying herself first with her son’s preparations for bed, then her own. He was exhausted from the voyage and would prefer to have this conversation with her in the morning, but he saw now that it would not wait.

  Begin with the emperor, he thought, rehearsing the explanation that would explain nothing. Nero’s powerful – But Rome is far away and we can –

  She was too wise for him to coat this with honey. When the silence had lasted longer than he could bear, he caught her as she passed and drew her to him. He stroked her beautiful, long loose hair. She would not meet his eyes.

  “I brought a gift,” he said, retrieving the hair ornament from the small leather purse in which he’d carried it. He held it out to her on the palm of his hand.

  She glanced at the silver comb with its amber chip, taking it reluctantly. He sat on a wooden bench and drew her onto his lap. “We must talk now, Breca.”

  “I listen, Husband.”

  Something in the way she said the word confirmed his fears. He was never able to keep the dark things from her, even had he thought it possible to shield her from this one. Long moments passed in the dim room while he weighed how to make the truth less harmful, or whether all of it could be told at all.

  In the end, he chose simplicity.

  “For reasons of his own – ” Better not right now to go into what Gallus had told him on the ship. “– the emperor decided I must marry this girl, Antonia, and bring her and the child to live here with me.”

  “How can that be, when you are married to me?”

  He considered for a moment the decree of divorce and remarriage that Nero had caused to be drawn up, but she didn’t read Latin and he knew it wouldn’t persuade her to accept this injustice. “You know, my heart, you are and always will be my one true wife.” He realized his voice was shaking and she who knew him better than he knew himself must notice that. “But the emperor rules us both. Antonia too. He decreed that you and I are no longer married.”

  “And you accept that? The mother of your sons is no longer your wife because Caesar decrees a Roman marriage?”

  “I had no choice. I am a Roman citizen.”

  “You married me under our sacred law of handfasting. Can you so easily toss this aside?”

  Because he has Amminus! “We’ll find a way to work with this, my heart. In the morning we’ll talk more.” No good, he realized at once.

  “And Amminus? What of our son, left in the care of such an emperor?” She freed herself from his arms and stood up.

  “I have his promise he’ll take care of Amminus if we take care of the girl and her child.”

  “You believe this?”

  Of course he didn’t trust Nero! But how could he add to her anguish by admitting that he’d been outmaneuvered into leaving their son in possible danger?

  “It’s only for a short while, Breca, I swear to you. A year.”

  “What are you not saying to me, Togi? What threat will you not speak to me?”

  “We can do this. Once our son is home --”

  “And until then you expect me to be a concubine in my own home?”

  Her anger battered at him and he stood with his head lowered, not answering for fear she’d pursue the safety of their son, knowing he deserved far more than her anger.<
br />
  “I’ll sleep in Catuarus’s room, tonight.”

  “Breca –”

  Without looking at him again, she left the sleeping chamber they’d shared since before Amminus was born.

  Still clothed, he lay on the bed, one arm over his eyes, in too much pain to sleep until the first light of dawn crept through the shuttered window.

  Rising in haste, he narrowly missed stepping on the silver comb which lay on the floor.

  Catuarus’s room, when he reached it, was empty.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  [Noviomagus, AD 66]

  “Wake up!”

  Lucia squatted beside the man who was still asleep, wrapped in his cloak on a pallet outside the door. She poked his shoulder with one finger. “Niko! Wake up.”

  She’d pulled her tunic on before she’d left the bed she’d shared with her mother, but it was getting too short for her now and only reached her knees; she’d left her sandals off, preferring to be barefoot whenever her mother wasn’t around to catch her. She was glad to be off the boat – although the boat ride would’ve been better if Ma had let her go up with the sailors. She’d wanted to look at the waves and the birds, and she didn’t like the smell because Ma was sick all the time. This house was colder than the one she remembered as home, but the garden she could see through the archway at the end of the corridor looked interesting.

  “Niko!”

  He fidgeted at that and grunted. She poked him again, harder this time, and he sat up, pulling the cloak around his shoulders.

  “Wanna eat,” she said.

  “I want to eat,” he corrected, saying the words slowly in precise Latin so she could catch every bit.

  She wasn’t interested in learning this morning. “Get up!”

  “Lucia, this isn’t our house. We’ll have to be patient,” Niko said.

  “Now.”

  “Your mother –”

  “She’s asleep!”

  Niko sighed and got to his feet. “Stay here till I get back. Don’t wander off.”

  “Promise.”

  But as soon as he’d walked off – in bare feet too, she noticed, leaving his sandals on the floor where he’d been lying – she saw something flash outside past the archway. Curious, she went to find out what it was.

  The garden wasn’t nearly as tidy as the one where she’d lived in Pyrgi. Instead of paths between neatly clipped bushes and statues where she’d played “catch me” with the younger slaves, there was nothing here but sloping land covered in grass and trees. But she noticed a spider web, like a silver net with little crystals sparkling in the sun. She hadn’t liked spiders ever since one of the children from the village who came to play with her at her grandfather’s house, dropped one down her neck. But she did like to see their pretty webs. There weren’t as many flowers in this garden, and the ones she could see were turning brown and shriveling up. She stopped to sniff, but they were past the time of scent. And it was much colder than that other garden. She was disappointed.

  She saw the flash again – brown and white fur. A dog!

  Laughing, she forgot all about cold air or breakfast and chased after the dog. It was too fast for her to catch. Her hair came loose from its clip and floated on the air behind her as she ran.

  The dog led her over the rough turf towards a shallow stream full of water grass where ducks were hunting for breakfast. Just as she reached it, the dog plunged in, water splashing up in a big rainbow arc in the pale morning sun, the ducks quacking in alarm and flapping their wings, the dog barking. Enchanted, she hitched up her tunic and followed the dog into the stream. The water wasn’t very deep, but it was very cold and full of bubbles that tickled her bare legs.

  The brown and white dog was almost at the other bank, half walking, half dog paddling.

  “Come back, doggie!” she called, wading after it.

  She couldn’t move as fast as the dog did and it soon scrambled out. The bed of the stream was made of small, smooth stones, slick with the fast-moving water, and suddenly her foot slid out from under her and she went down.

  “Niko! Niko! Help me up!”

  But of course, Niko couldn’t help her. He was back in the house where he’d told her to stay. Somehow, she managed to get back on her feet and grabbed at a clump of reeds along the far bank. She pushed her dripping hair back out of her eyes and found herself eye to eye with a boy, a few years older than she was. He knelt on the bank, his hand holding the wet dog by its neck ruff.

  “Who are you?” she demanded. Boys weren’t supposed to just wander about like that. If Niko saw him, he’d scold!

  “You’re the one who should give a name,” the boy said. “This is my home.”

  He had a very strange way of saying the words – she could hardly understand him. Even Niko, who had a funny way of saying things, spoke clearer than this boy. He had dark eyes and odd colored hair too, red like autumn leaves, not black or dark brown like hair was supposed to be. Even yellow.

  “Is this your dog?”

  The boy nodded. “We had to leave last night and I couldn’t find her. I came back for her.”

  “Her? I didn’t know dogs could be girls.”

  “Silly!” He grinned at her, showing gaps where he’d lost teeth. “This is Beech. We call her that because she was born under a beech tree. She’s a year old.”

  “I’m four,” she told him. “How old are you?”

  “Eight, I think. I don’t remember when my birthday is.”

  She stared at him. What an odd thing to say! A birthday was a great celebration, a feast day. Perhaps she hadn’t understood him.

  “Better get out of the water before you catch cold.” He held a hand out to her and she took hold,

  “Are there dolphins in this water?”

  “Dolphins? Of course not! They swim in the sea, not in the little streams.”

  “Niko showed me some. They were swimming next to the big boat.” Niko had taken her out of the smelly cabin where Ma was being sick and took her up on deck. He’d pointed to five big grey shapes swimming beside the boat. One came up and looked right at her! It had started raining again and she had to go back inside.

  “They do that sometimes.”He let go of the dog and held his other hand out to her. “My name is Catuarus.”

  “That’s a funny name. I don’t know anybody called that name.”

  “Of course not, it’s my name! And what’s yours?”

  “Lucia.”

  “That’s pretty. Now, come on. Get out of the water.”

  She took his hand and climbed out of the stream. The dog licked her hands, her bare legs where the wet tunic had bunched up, and tried to reach her face. The air was warm and she felt her skin drying.

  “Beech likes you,” the boy said.

  Shyness came over her and she looked down at her feet. She tangled her fingers in the young dog’s fur. They all three stood silently for a moment.

  “This stream goes down to the sea,” the boy said after a moment. “You can catch fish there.”

  “I’ve never caught a fish!”

  “I suppose I could teach you sometime – if you want.”

  In the distance, she heard Niko’s voice calling her name.

  “Somebody’s looking for you. You’d better go. Will you get a whipping for being wet?”

  She looked up at him, surprised. “Only slaves get whipped! My Mater is Antonia Plautina.”

  “Well I’ve never heard of her!”

  “We live in a big house in Pyrgi –” She flung her arms wide to describe how big it was, then broke off. They didn’t live there any more.

  “Don’t start crying. That’s for babies.”

  She whispered, “I don’t know where I live now.”

  The boy dropped her hand and stepped away. “Maybe you’ve come to live in my house!”

  Niko’s voice was closer now. She could hear him crashing through the bushes on the other side of the stream.

  “You’re the reason my mother and I had t
o leave last night.”

  “No! I was asleep.” She felt the start of tears again at his harsh words.

  The dog stood on its hind legs to lick her cheek. She buried her face in its still-wet fur that smelled clean and fresh like the wind.

  “Well,” he said slowly, watching the dog. “Maybe it isn’t you exactly that did it.”

  Niko came out from a thicket of leaves. “There you are! You need to come back in the house before your mother notices you’re missing.”

  He took two big steps across the stream. One more and he reached the other bank. The dog growled.

  “Beech!” She and the boy said it at the same time. The dog sat down and began to scratch its ear.

  “Look how wet you are!” Niko swung her up onto his shoulder and turned to cross back over the stream.

  She looked back at the boy and the dog on the far bank. “Will you come back and play with me sometime?”

  “Maybe,” he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Antonia slept until midday, the first good sleep she’d had since leaving Rome. She sat up, disoriented at first, staring around the small, spare room, wondering where she was. It all came back in a rush.

  Exiled.

  Worse – married off to a barbarian. Bad as life had become, those last years in her father’s villa when the free servants left one by one because Pater couldn’t afford to pay them any more, and all their friends turned away from them, she could never have imagined this. She’d been so certain the emperor would embrace his daughter once he knew. How would she survive – how would her young daughter survive – in such an alien place? The emperor couldn’t have meant for this to be a punishment. She had done nothing to deserve it.

  Shortly before the boat had set sail from the port at Ostia, the dwarf, Satrias, had found her. “You have to understand his fear of assassins,” he’d said. “Look at this as his way of protecting you and the child.” In misery, she’d stared at him. “How can you believe that?” The dwarf shook his head. “The court is full of enemies. Hide the child!”