Numeria shook her head slowly. ‘I don’t want you to go either. If you leave for Germany, you will have lost me too.’
I looked up at her sharply. ‘You’d have me hide here in this fortress, in cowardice and shame, away from harm’s way? I was a coward before, Numeria. I can’t return to that, I just can’t.’
She inclined her head in sympathy. ‘This has nothing to do with bravery. You don’t want to return to Germany to prove your nerve again. You’ve moved past that point.’
I looked up to the ceiling in disbelief at what I was hearing. ‘Then why would I return?’
She folded her arms under her breasts. ‘You want to return for hate. Hate drives you right now, and hate will drive you to your death in Germany.’
I shook my head angrily. ‘I’ll not die at the hands of Julius. He tried to kill me before and failed then. You think that I’ll not come back to you, but I will!’
She shook her head sadly. ‘Whether you succeed or not is not an issue, although I have my doubts. Even if you did manage to succeed in your plan for vengeance, it will still consume you. You think that after the death of Julius the pain at losing those comrades will go away? It won’t you know.’
I spread my arms out wide. ‘At least their shades will have been avenged. At least I will be able to know I have done everything in my power to give their shades peace.’
Numeria’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve never been a superstitious man, and you’re not now. You don’t believe that any more than I do. You want to return to Germany because you now hate Julius. You wake up in the night shouting his name, your hands clench when anyone mentions his name, you grind your teeth in anger if anyone comments on how well he organised the ambush you found yourself in.’
She was right. I dreamt of Julius every night, thought of him in every passing moment, I pictured his face and my body shook with the anger of his betrayal. ‘All that will pass once I kill him!’ I shouted angrily.
She shook her head. ‘No it won’t. You think it will, but it won’t. The anger at his betrayal won’t go away just because he’s dead. He was your friend and you loved him more than anyone in the world – that’s why it hurt you so much. That’s why you’re now so consumed with hatred for him. At first I thought it would pass in time, but these crazy plans you’ve been making with Marcus are just fuelling it. If you were to kill Julius, a part of you would never forgive yourself. The anger that you have for him now, you’d direct at yourself, or those around you. I love you, but I can’t live with a man so consumed with anger. You either decide to leave Germany and return to Rome with Julia and me, or I don’t wish to ever see you again.’
I looked up at her aghast. ‘You can’t mean that?’
Tears finally sprang from her eyes, as her calm composure was finally broken. ‘It will break my heart, but I mean it. Have you ever known me to make idle threats?’
No, I hadn’t, and I knew she wasn’t now. I either chose my vengeance or her; there would be no accommodation between the two. Yet still it was hard to let go of what had been driving me for so long through the long cold nights of winter. I’d wished for nothing more than driving my gladius through my lying friend’s heart and burying it up to the hilt in his blood. I sat down on a stool heavily, not knowing what to say.
Numeria wiped her eyes. ‘You don’t have to decide now. Take a day or so, but after that time Julia and I want you and Marcus to make a solemn agreement, a vow if you like, that you won’t return to Germany to gain vengeance for what happened. The wars in Germany will be left for others to decide the outcome. You two will have no further part in it.’
It had taken a few days. I raged against it at first, thought of ways that I might change Numeria’s mind. But every time I raised the subject she would simply restate that it was my decision, but if I left for Germany, it would be over between us. In frustration, I left the fortress in a fury, taking my horse for a ride, spitting anger at Numeria’s unreasonable demand. I rode him hard along the banks of the river Rhenus, anger bursting out of me as I slowly pulled up my horse and looked over at the opposite bank and the forest-lined far shore that was Germany. Somewhere within that country my friend Julius was sitting there free, full of confidence, buoyed by the success of his victory. By the gods, I hated him for what he had done.
I realised then that what Numeria said was true. The hatred inside me was so strong that it would destroy me unless I could find some way of letting it go. I’d been so sure that killing Julius was all I needed to do, but would that make his betrayal hurt any less? I now doubted it, and would the guilt at killing him only add to my anger? I didn’t know, but I began to suspect that my plans for vengeance were nothing more than finding a way to get myself killed so I’d never have to find out. It was time I moved on and put the hatred aside and returned to Rome with Numeria, Marcus, and Julia.
I turned my horse around and slowly rode it back to Vetera. I went to see Numeria and told her of the decision I’d made. I’d chosen a life with her over one of vengeance and anger.
Tears fell from her face when I told her. ‘Thank you, Gaius. The last few days have been difficult, but I knew I needed to do it. You’ll understand in time.’
I gently brushed the tears from her eyes. ‘I understand already. I have to let him go.’
She nodded, then kissed me. ‘It can’t have been easy for you.’
I shook my head. ‘It hasn’t been, and I can’t promise it will always easy for me to accept it. There will be tough times ahead, I think.’
She held me tightly. ‘I know there will be. What you have seen, and been through, will stay with you. But you will learn to live with it in time.’
I stroked the back of her hair. ‘What makes you so sure?’
She looked up at me, tears in her eyes. ‘Because I believe in you.’
I embraced her and held her tightly. ‘I wish I had the same faith in myself.’
She tried to argue, but I put my finger on her lips to quieten her. ‘Shush … enough. The decision is made. Let’s go home to Rome.’
Chapter Five
The day after Aulus’ trial in the Forum, Numeria and I made our way to the Theatre of Pompey, the vast stone amphitheatre that had been constructed by Julius Caesar’s great rival. It was located near the Campus Martius, the wide level playing fields that the plebeians used to exercise on, and not far from my own gymnasium. We were attending the early evening show, the long days of May meaning that the theatre could stage its events late into the day, there still being plenty of daylight left to illuminate the spectacle. This had given Numeria and me a relaxing afternoon, not needing to rush to be ready for the play despite the long walk from my home on the Caelian Hill.
Numeria was fussing with the folds of the long gap-sleeved tunic she was wearing. We walked up to the large entrance reserved for those of equestrian or senatorial rank. ‘You don’t think I’m overdressed, do you?’
I smiled. This wasn’t the first time she’d voiced this thought. ‘You look beautiful as ever, Numeria. We needed to dress formally. We’re going to be the guests of Germanicus and Augustus’ own granddaughter.’ I myself was wearing my grandest toga, with the broad purple stripe that identified me as from the senatorial class, and the finest one in my collection.
She fidgeted with her long thin tunic and her light cape that protected her from the cool May breeze. ‘I can’t help feeling overdressed. I never dress like this when I go to the theatre near the Aventine.’
I laughed. ‘Your normal theatre is nothing much more than a few wooden benches and a screen to prevent the passers-by getting a free show. We’re going to the Theatre of Pompey, not nipping out to see a short mime.’
Numeria frowned slightly, careful not to crease her face, which she had very delicately painted with kohl around her eyes and the merest hint of saffron on her cheeks. ‘I suppose so, but I never dressed up the last time I came here.’
I put my hand on her slender waist as I guided her to the doorway where se
veral attendants were waiting. ‘The last time you weren’t one of the guests of honour. Eyes will be on us. We need to play our part.’
An attendant rushed over to greet us, a slight young slave with sandy hair and a broad smile. ‘Welcome to the theatre, my lord. May I help you to your seats?’
I inclined my head in acceptance. ‘Gaius Cassius Aprilis and Numeria Scipio. We should be expected.’
The young man nodded vigorously. ‘Indeed you are, my lord. We were told you would be honouring us today. Unfortunately, Germanicus and the Lady Agrippina have been delayed. They asked if you would like to take your seats without them?’
Numeria and I looked at one another, and I shrugged. ‘Can’t be helped I guess.’ Then I turned to the young slave. ‘Do you know what is keeping them?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, my lord. I was only told to take you to your seats.’
I shrugged again. ‘Then lead on and we will follow.’
We walked into the vast outdoor half-circle of stone seats before the stage, which was lit up brightly in the spring sunshine. ‘The crowd looks good today.’ Most of the seventeen thousand seats in the theatre appeared to be taken, and the ones that weren’t, people were still finding their way to. As in most theatres, the women were seated towards the back, the men to the front. But as we were guests of honour tonight, that wouldn’t be a consideration for us.
Numeria nodded. ‘It’s nice to see that the crowds are still turning up in such numbers for a classic play of this nature. Sometimes I worry that only the comedies and mimes can pull in the big audiences.’
I smiled. ‘It’s their opening night, remember?’
Numeria scoffed. ‘I came here to see a play on Orion and Diana. It wasn’t even half-full then.’
I rubbed my chin. ‘Yes, some of the religious plays seem to be falling out of favour. I prefer a tragedy myself. The gloomier the better.’
Numeria gave a light laugh as we took our prime seats that overlooked the stage at the front and came with soft plump cushions to save our behinds from the cold stone underneath. ‘Honestly, Gaius. There’s no use pretending. I know you don’t enjoy the theatre as much as me, classical, tragedy or any other type of play.’
I inclined my head in thanks to the slave, before sitting down myself. ‘I don’t think anyone in Rome enjoys the theatre as much as you. But I still have a healthy regard for the theatre.’
Numeria gave a very unladylike snort of derision that showed what she thought of that statement.
Before the slave left us, he asked, ‘Can I get you anything? Some wine perhaps?’
I shook my head in dismissal. I knew Numeria would be annoyed if I drank myself into a stupor rather than watch the play.
We chatted quietly as we waited for the play to start and heard whispers from the cheaper seats, who stared at us and muttered behind their hands. No doubt they were discussing who might be sitting in the dignitaries’ seats positioned in the large semicircle just before the stage. Sometimes the theatre could be a rowdy affair, full of inebriated onlookers who bawled at the ribald humour of the comedies or the salacious mimes that often involved nudity or worse in the course of the performance. But the audience at the Theatre of Pompey were a more sophisticated lot, and most were wearing their best tunics and sandals for this particular classical play on the story of the god Mercury and the nymph Lara, and they waited with respectful restraint. I guessed that the delay was due to the actors wishing to wait until their patron, my school friend Germanicus, took his seat next to his exalted wife, Agrippina. However, eventually they clearly realised waiting any longer was fruitless, no doubt concerned that they may miss the light altogether unless they started soon, and the musicians started playing to signify the start of the play.
A hush descended over the audience as the musicians played a few lilting notes on their flutes, and the nymph Lara came onto the stage, dancing lightly from one side of the stage to the other, her large Greek mask obscuring the fact that it was a actually a young adolescent boy acting as the main female lead in the play. I knew this was something that annoyed Numeria. Female actors were now becoming widespread in the mimes or tragedies that we often went to see, but as yet they were barred from any of the classical productions, such as this one in the Theatre of Pompey. I looked over at my lover to see if there was any sign of disappointment on her face, but as ever in the theatre, her expression was one of complete rapt attention, eyes bright with excitement. I smiled contentedly.
Lara completed her merry dancing and sat by a mountain stream, depicted by a clever stage set painted in detail and with great realism. ‘I wonder why water babbles as it goes downstream? Do you think it is the fish that make that noise?’ she asked, in the high-pitched voice of the nymph that chattered away and asked a thousand meaningless questions. ‘Do you think that fish speak to one another? Or what is it that makes grass green?’
The audience tittered at her silly statements and we laughed out loud as she asked, ‘Why do boys’ farts smell different to girls? Do they learn to play a different tune with their bottoms?’
The endless stream of chatter continued, as slowly the other actors took to the stage, this time wearing the imposing masks of the Roman gods. They held their hands to their ears as they circled a depiction of Mount Olympus been driven mad by Lara’s mindless stream of nonsense.
‘When will it end?’ bemoaned a wailing Diana.
‘She never stops,’ said Mars.
The nymph Lara continued her silly chatter, not caring what she said or who listened. ‘Did you see that dog covered in spots? Such a silly looking dog. Do you think he can lick those spots clean if he tries with his tongue?’
‘She never pauses for breath,’ announced Mars, shaking his head in annoyance.
The amusing tittle-tattle of Lara’s tirade continued, making the audience smile and grin until the nymph pushed her luck too far and innocently asked, ‘Did you hear what almighty Jupiter gave his lover the other day by the river? Such a pretty gift for such a pretty girl.’
The whole audience gave a loud gasp of shock at the sacrilege. All knew that some secrets should never be voiced, particularly those of the greatest god of them all. The music of the musicians changed into a dramatic storm as a wrathful Juno, jealous wife of the almighty king of the gods, took to the stage. ‘What is this I hear? You have news of my husband? Do tell me what you have heard of my unfaithful husband?’ she hissed in a loud stage whisper that carried to the far edges of the auditorium, aided by the excellent acoustics of the theatre.
Numeria held my hand in excitement, but the tension was suddenly shattered at the edge of the performance as a party of latecomers entered the theatre, completely throwing the performance and play into turmoil. ‘What, by the gods, is this?’ I voiced in annoyance, as the party walked through the audience and others stood up to let them pass.
The actors on the stage looked around at one another, not knowing whether to continue or halt, as a man in a toga jumped sprightly onto the stage. It was Germanicus, and he wore his normal broad smile. ‘My apologies for this disturbance,’ he told us all. ‘I hope I haven’t interrupted your show?’
I looked askance over at Numeria, whose eyes narrowed, and she muttered under her breath, ‘Of all the nerve.’
I chuckled to myself as I listened to Germanicus continue. ‘My wife and I were delayed on matters of state. We wished to be here for the beginning of the show but alas could not make it. I am sure you’ve been enjoying a marvellous production by the best group of actors in Rome?’
The shocked and stunned audience gave muted agreement, not knowing how they could show their obvious displeasure to such an important figure – all in the audience would know of Germanicus and his illustrious wife, if not by sight, then by reputation at the very least. This was their production after all.
Germanicus excused his interruption, then turned to the actors. ‘If you don’t mind, my wife would like you to start at the beginning again. We do
so hate to miss the start of a play.’
There were grumbles from the audience but none dared to openly object. Numeria’s face was a picture of anger. ‘Who, by the gods, does he think he is?’ she whispered to me.
I chuckled. ‘The Imperial family – you have to love them, don’t you?’
Numeria ground her teeth. ‘No.’
I grinned. ‘Be nice now, they’re coming over.’
Germanicus and Agrippina made their way to their seats, next to our own. They were completely unhurried and unflustered by the disturbance they’d given to everyone in the theatre. They were surrounded by members of the Praetorian Guard, who were clad head to toe in polished armour and led the illustrious couple to the imperial seats. ‘Cassius, glad you could make it, and this must be the lovely Numeria you told me about?’ he said on greeting me.
I greeted Germanicus warmly and was pleased to notice that Numeria managed to as well, despite her anger at the disturbance. Germanicus then turned to his wife. ‘May I present my dear wife, Agrippina. A more beautiful and refined lady you’ll never meet.’
This wasn’t quite true. Agrippina was a handsome woman rather than a beautiful one, with a prominent nose and a striking narrow face that was accentuated by her curly and frizzy hair, worn tied back tightly to the back of her head. She gave me the merest nod as she greeted me. ‘A pleasure to meet such an old friend of my husband. It is good to know you’ve managed to remain friends all this time.’
The voice took me by surprise. It was exactly the same timbre and pitch as her mother’s, the rebellious Julia, who had nearly led me to ruin in my youth. I’d followed her mother down the path of indecency and hedonism once, seduced by the same seductive and rich voice that still had the power to cut through me to the bone. I managed to stumble out something vaguely appropriate, ‘A pleasure, my lady, the honour is all mine,’ but inside I was taken aback.
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