by Tanya Bird
Junia adjusted the rings on her fingers. ‘Do not lie about anything, not even the smallest detail. They likely already know everything about you, and if there is something they wish to know, they will find out. And if their sources contradict anything you say, they will tear you apart. Stick close to Manius or me. We are your best chance of survival.’ She hesitated. ‘And best avoid being alone with my father if you can. He can get a little… hands-on when he has been drinking.’
Dulcia blinked. ‘I am betrothed to his son.’
Junia waved off the statement. ‘If I am not exempt from my own father, then you are most certainly not. You are just his type—sweet, submissive.’ With that, she stepped out from behind the pillar and said, ‘Look who just arrived.’ She gestured to Dulcia, who had no choice but to follow her out into the open.
The garden fell silent, and everyone turned to stare at her. It was too much. She looked down at her feet.
‘There she is,’ Manius said, separating from the men at the far end of the garden and walking over to her.
Dulcia forced her gaze up and reminded herself to breathe.
Manius assessed her choice of attire. ‘You look lovely.’ He offered his arm.
She had no idea if he was being sincere or just polite, but she slipped her arm through his, feeling every pair of eyes on her as she did so. He guided her to the large group of women waiting with their claws extended. Junia walked on the other side of her brother, her head high, looking every bit a noblewoman. There were five couples, ten guests total, not including the three of them.
So much for a family dinner.
She should probably have mentioned that she was not one for crowds. But to what avail?
‘Dulcia,’ Manius said, ‘may I introduce Marcia, Drucia, Hortensia, Fabiola, and my mother, Livia.’
Livia’s steel gaze travelled the full length of her before replying. ‘So this is your slaveborn sponsa we have heard so little about.’ Just a few words spoken, yet everything said.
Junia went to stand beside her mother, winking encouragingly at Dulcia.
‘It is nice to meet you,’ Dulcia said, though her voice barely carried the short distance.
Livia turned to her friends, smiling. ‘She is like a little mouse. Squeak, squeak.’
They all laughed except for Junia, and Dulcia’s cheeks heated once more.
Manius cleared his throat. ‘Mother, you promised to behave.’
‘A joke, my love.’ Livia turned to Dulcia. ‘I trust you have a sense of humour.’ When Dulcia did not reply, she added, ‘My besotted son assures me you are now a freed woman.’
‘Mother,’ Junia said, taking a cup of wine from the tray one of the servants wandered around with. ‘Dulcia is the daughter of Rufus Papias. I am certain he would not find your jokes funny.’
Dulcia glanced behind her at the exit, forming an escape plan.
‘You must forgive my mother,’ Manius said, patting the top of her hand. ‘She has a tendency to speak before she thinks.’
Livia tutted while the other women continued to watch Dulcia.
‘Half slave and half noble,’ Junia said. ‘That makes you a true daughter of Rome from where I stand.’
Livia stepped back from the circle. ‘Then perhaps you should trade places with me, get a better view.’
Junia shook her head, and Drucia squealed with laughter.
‘Tell us,’ Drucia said, composing herself, ‘how did the two of you meet?’
Here we go, Dulcia thought. More fuel for the fire.
Manius turned to answer the question. ‘At the Trigarium. Dulcia often goes there to watch me train.’
Dulcia looked up at him, wondering whether he was lying for their benefit or whether he actually believed that was her reason for going. By the look on his face, the latter. When she faced the group again, she found Livia studying her.
‘And your father just lets you traipse about the city?’
Dulcia drew a breath. ‘I work in the mornings and evenings. The afternoons are mine to do as I please. I have been going there for years.’
‘Years?’
Dulcia clasped her hands in front of her, too tightly. ‘Nerva’s horses have trained there for a number of years.’
Marcia looked between the other women. ‘Nerva Papias?’
‘Dulcia’s brother,’ Junia said.
‘Half-brother,’ Livia corrected. ‘I imagine Nerva is rarely there. I am certain he has far more important matters to attend to.’
Junia rolled her eyes. ‘He is allowed to visit his horses, Mother.’
Livia seemed to be waiting for a better explanation. Dulcia heeded Junia’s warning to not lie about even the smallest detail. ‘Nerva’s horses are trained by a family friend of mine. He is always happy for me to come along.’
Everyone’s eyebrows seemed to rise in unison, even Junia’s.
‘Family friends who tend the horses?’ Hortensia asked, her face creased with disapproval. ‘What sort of company are the Papiases keeping nowadays?’
Wicked smiles were exchanged between the women.
‘Family on my mother’s side,’ Dulcia explained, though it was a stretch. She could never expect them to accept the notion that family did not have to be blood.
‘She is referring to the slave side,’ Livia said, as if that needed clarifying.
‘I understand your sister is married to Remus Latinius,’ Junia interjected.
Drucia’s mouth fell open. ‘The gladiator?’
‘He is a spice merchant,’ Dulcia said. ‘He has not fought in years.’
‘A spice merchant and a stable boy,’ Livia laughed. ‘What interesting family you have.’
Marcia took a sip of wine, then looked between the women. ‘Let us not forget the dwarf and the mute who share their house. Oh, and the street rat they took in.’
Dulcia frowned. ‘Street rat?’
Manius turned to her. ‘I believe Marcia is referring to Nero.’ He shook his head. ‘Ladies, let us not be unfair. The boy cannot help that he was orphaned, nor that he was raised in a brothel.’
The women exchanged looks of disapproval while anger welled in Dulcia’s chest. There was absolutely no reason for Manius to add that last part. It only fuelled them.
She was about to speak up, to defend him, when Junia stepped forwards and took her other arm. ‘Would you like a tour of the house?’
Dulcia could see by her expression that she was trying to save her from the conversation.
‘First you must meet my father,’ Manius said, patting her hand. ‘Come.’
She was swept away from the group, but before they reached the other guests, she stopped walking. Manius turned to her, a brow raised in question.
‘Nero spent a few years in that brothel at best before being taken in by Jovian Fadius.’ She was surprised by her clipped tone.
Manius glanced about, checking if anyone was listening before responding. ‘All right.’
‘Then by Remus and Mila, who love him like family.’
He narrowed his gaze on her. ‘I cannot change how others view the man.’
‘No,’ she agreed, ‘but how you speak of him shapes how people see him.’
Manius ran a finger down her face, his expression softening. ‘I know he is your friend, which is why I do not speak poorly of him.’
She searched his face for an ounce of sincerity but once again found him unreadable. ‘Thank you.’
His hand fell away. ‘As long as he is respectful of the boundaries I put in place.’
Her eyebrows drew together. ‘What boundaries?’
‘Do not fear. I understand how you feel about your family.’ He bent, brushing his lips over hers as though it were an everyday occurrence between them.
She took a step back, aware of everyone looking. It was the first time she had ever been kissed that way, and she felt nothing but a flush of embarrassment. Her lips were cold, yet she had always imagined a kiss would bring warmth. Then again, she had never ima
gined kissing Manius.
She looked around at the harsh faces, then down at her feet. Manius took her hand and pulled her to him. The overpowering smell of scented oil filled her nostrils. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, ‘Let us try that again later—without an audience.’
Claudius Liberia was a quiet man with deep-set eyes. He spoke kindly to Dulcia, but he also seemed to think it appropriate to leer at her like a master did a ripe slave in their household. Manius did not appear to notice, or perhaps he was immune. He seemed to like displaying her on his arm, content with her silence while he did all the talking. They spoke of racing and politics—the two things she cared least for in life. She was thankful when the conversation was brought to a halt by the arrival of food.
They ate in the garden, reclined on lounges. Dulcia sat safely between Manius and Junia, tense and finding no appetite despite the trays of eggs, salted meats, olives, cheese, vegetables, and fruit on display. Wine was poured, and she sipped slowly, despite the constant refilling of her cup. Heaven forbid it sit empty.
‘Will you be coming to the Circus Maximus on Friday to watch my brother gloat?’ Junia asked.
‘She will barely be able to see him gloat from all the way up in those high seats,’ Livia said. ‘The race experience is quite different for the lower-class.’
Dulcia took a longer drink.
‘If she arrives early enough,’ Claudius said, ‘she can secure a bench seat by the metae.’
‘Is that a good viewing spot?’ Dulcia asked, making an effort to participate in the conversation. She was hesitant to admit she had never been to the circus. Not due to lack of opportunity, but because she had no interest in watching people die.
‘It is the most common spot for collisions and death,’ Junia said. ‘You will likely be sprayed with blood if you sit there.’
‘Yes, but the plebeians love that,’ Livia said with a glance in her direction.
‘Well, since you are soon to be family,’ Manius said, ‘why not join us for the day? I am confident Junia will take good care of you.’
‘Join our family?’ Livia asked, visibly surprised. ‘You would need to dress the part.’
‘Mother,’ Junia said, shaking her head.
‘What?’ Livia looked around at her friends. ‘There are standards on the balconies, are there not?’
The other women nodded their agreement.
Manius glanced across at Dulcia. ‘With a face like that, there is no need for expensive jewels and feathers.’
It was such a lovely compliment, yet once again Dulcia found nothing on Manius’s face to suggest he meant it. ‘I do not wish to intrude. If I attend—’
‘What do you mean, if you attend?’ Junia asked, smiling. ‘Has my brother not made it compulsory?’
Dulcia watched as her drink was refilled once more.
‘I happen to know our Dulcia is not big on the circus or games,’ Manius said. ‘Too much bloodshed.’
How he knew that, she had no idea.
‘What sort of Roman does not care for our traditions?’ Livia asked, eyes filled with accusation.
‘I prefer other sports,’ Dulcia replied. ‘Ones that do not end in death.’
Livia scowled at her. ‘Such as?’
She picked up her cup to give her hands something to do. ‘Harpastum or… hoop racing.’
Everybody laughed, even Manius. Livia smirked into her drink as though their laughter were her personal victory.
‘You forgot knucklebones and checkers,’ Claudius said, turning to the other men, who laughed along with him.
Dulcia’s cheeks burned as she lifted her cup, emptying it in a few mouthfuls.
‘All right, all right,’ Junia said, catching her breath. ‘I think we have teased the poor girl quite enough.’
Manius reached across and patted her leg, then gestured for one of the servants to refill her cup. A young girl stepped up to pour.
‘Thank you,’ Dulcia said quietly.
The acknowledgement made the girl look up, their eyes meeting briefly. It was unusual for a guest to acknowledge a slave, and especially to thank them. Dulcia had broken an unspoken rule by making her visible. The distracted girl did not position the ladle over the cup correctly, and a drizzle of wine ran down the side of the cup and onto the floor. She immediately moved to clean it up.
‘Stupid girl,’ Manius said beneath his breath, shaking his head.
‘Sorry, Erus,’ she murmured, her eyes down.
‘It was my fault,’ Dulcia said, bending to help with the mess on the ground.
A firm hand on her arm made her stop. She looked up into Manius’s disapproving face.
‘Leave it,’ he said with a stern expression.
She slowly straightened, and he let go of her arm. All eyes were on her now.
‘It must be so difficult to break old habits,’ Livia whispered rather loudly to the other women. They all exchanged a knowing look.
Dulcia’s gaze fell to her lap, and she prayed conversation would resume. But the guests continued to stare at her as though she were an impostor.
‘Tell us who you are racing on Friday,’ Junia said to Manius, breaking the awkward silence.
Once everyone had eaten to the point of bursting, the food was taken away, but not the wine. It was getting late, and Dulcia wondered how long she should stay. Restless, she excused herself and went in search of the latrine, if only for a few moments of quiet. On her way back, she loitered in the atrium, wandering between the sculptures and other works of art featured in the room.
‘That one was done by a rather exceptional artist.’
She turned to see Claudius behind her. Stepping back from the mosaic image, she said, ‘Sorry, I was… it was too lovely to pass without stopping.’
He came to stand beside her. ‘A priestess helping those in need is a beautiful thing.’
The picture was of a vestal virgin handing out loaves of bread to sick men.
Dulcia cleared her throat. ‘Yes it is.’ She turned back to the artwork, but stiffened when she felt fingers in her hair.
‘So soft,’ Claudius murmured, rubbing the strands between his fingers.
She took another step back, out of reach, recalling Junia’s warning. Whatever bad things Livia had to say about Dulcia’s family, it seemed her own was no beacon of light to the Roman people. ‘I should find Manius.’ She hoped her expression said everything she could not.
‘There you are,’ Manius said, entering the atrium. ‘I thought you might have gotten lost.’
Claudius turned to watch his son walk in, his expression easy. ‘Dulcia was just admiring some of the art.’
She cleared her throat. ‘I was just saying that I should be getting home.’
Manius’s eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Already?’
‘I have to work in the morning.’
He smiled at her. ‘Not for too much longer. Rufus will be reducing your workload moving forwards. Then, once we are wed, you will never have to work again.’
The idea was far from appealing. ‘It is only kitchen work, and I enjoy cooking.’
Manius stepped closer, taking hold of her arms. ‘I shall find you a more suitable hobby.’
Surely she would be allowed to choose her own interests. Perhaps that thinking had been naive on her part. Manius’s tone and expression suggested otherwise.
Looking across at Claudius, she said, ‘Thank you for a lovely evening.’
He nodded. ‘I shall send for the litter.’
They watched him leave, and then Manius faced her once more, his eyes on her lips, the way Nero’s had been earlier that afternoon. But this time, her body did not heat, did not pulse. There was no curiosity, no desire to lean in. He bent and kissed her, and she froze, waiting for a reaction other than a strong urge to pull away. It was the same as earlier—empty, cold.
Perhaps if I hang in there a little longer…
No. She stepped back, eyes on her feet.
He laughed. Not a cruel
laugh, but still a laugh. ‘You are too sweet.’
He probably meant it as a compliment, but it only embarrassed her.
When she did not respond, he drew a long breath. ‘I have never known a woman like you. You make the vestals look like heathens. Do not fear. I am a patient man.’
She dragged her eyes up to meet his. ‘I appreciate that. This is all… a lot.’
‘It will not take you long to grow used to this life. Soon you will barely remember your old one.’
A scary thought. She glanced in the direction of the door. ‘I should go.’ He was waiting for her to look at him, so she did, because that was what grown women did.
‘This will be your life soon.’ His tone turned serious. ‘Tell me you want it.’
It was what her mother wanted. It was what her father wanted. Father. The word warmed her bones, still cold from Manius’s kiss.
‘What sensible woman would say no?’ It was more a question for herself than an answer for him.
A wide smile spread across his face. ‘I suspect you will be worth the wait.’
Moments later she was escorted outside, loaded into a litter, and sent on her way with another stagnant kiss aimed at her mouth. Thanks to a quick reposition of her head, it landed on her cheek.
The moment she was on the move, Dulcia felt the heat of tears on her cheeks. She brushed them aside, because she had no right to cry, to feel miserable, to feel anything other than grateful. Manius had been kind and patient, but in place of gratitude sat nausea, fear, and something else.
She pulled back the curtain to gauge their distance from the house. About halfway. ‘You may let me out here.’
The litter was lowered to the ground. When she stepped down, one of the slaves turned and said, ‘We were instructed to take you all the way.’
‘It is not far from here. I need some fresh air after all that wine. Thank you,’ she said before rushing off.
She thought about going to her sister, lying in her lap and having a good cry, like she had many times. Instead, she made her way to the tavern opposite Ludus Magnus in search of Nero. He would be furious at her walking the streets late at night, but the copious amounts of wine she had consumed in order to survive the evening gave her false confidence.
