by Mark Tiro
“Uh, thank you,” I said, my eyes drying now.
“Actually, she is a gift from both your father and me. I thought she would have made a good slave for our main villa in the city, but when your father insisted we give her to you, I saw his point. And now, seeing you finally here in the Temple, I think he was right.” She reached her arms around me again. “I love your so much my baby.”
“I love you too mommy.”
“Oh, one more thing I almost forgot. We’ve given her a name.”
“What’s that mommy?” I asked through tears.
“Arescusa.”
3
Three
“Go ahead child. I won’t tell anyone.”
I looked again at the small calf curled up in the corner, nuzzling up against its mother. Since her pregnant mother had been brought to the Temple stalls a few months back, she had been kept apart from the other animals in one of the stalls for the animals just past the outer courtyard. I had held that calf when the mother had first given birth. The feast day was approaching in two weeks, when the fertile mother and her newborn calf would both be sacrificed together, on the Temple altar as a fertility offering for the goddess. They were to be the compliment to the main sacrifice of wild deer. The deer had been captured at great effort and were to be the main sacrifice of the feast day—in recognition of the goddess’ more famous patronage: that of animals, and nature, and most importantly, of the hunt. Now, before the festival, the courtyards and stalls were teeming with so many animals for the sacrifice, and feast after, that I couldn’t keep track of them all.
“No one will miss the baby,” Tullia said. She had been a decade older than me when I’d come to the Temple, and was one of the officials who served now as an administrator. “The mother may have to be sacrificed, but you can take the calf away from here. My family has a farm not far from the city where she will blend in. No one will miss her this year if you free her. There are so many animals now.”
I looked back at the calf. Arescusa was there with me as well. I could order her to take the calf out, and no one would think twice about a slave girl leading a calf through the crowded streets around the Temple just before a festival.
“I know no one will miss the calf Tullia. You’re right, but just because you’re right doesn’t make it right.” The calf stood out and started making little noises. I walked over, put my hand on her cheek and rubbed until she quieted down. “Diana is our protector. She is comfort, and compassion and love.”
“And what is there but love? You told me yourself, love is all that matters, right?”
“And it is. Look how much I’ve sacrificed for love. All my friends I grew up with are married now, and most with child already. But I have never been with a man. I won’t marry for many, many more years. Like Diana our protector, I have sacrificed my own best interests for love.”
“And has it been worth it?”
“Of course it has. I didn’t understand, I didn’t see when I came here. I was just a girl. But now I do. These rituals, what we do at this Temple—this is where the meaning and the love flows from. I am older now, seventeen and a half, and I know. More importantly, if I freed that calf, Diana would know. The goddess would know.”
She looked at me, but didn’t say anything.
“And I would know. Where do you think the love comes from Tullia?”
She stood and listened without saying anything. I kept going. I wanted to make sure now that she understood what was clearly obvious for everyone with two eyes to see. “Of course I’d like to do something for that calf. I wish these weren’t the rites the goddess requires. But they are. The festival sacrifice—it’s not easy. And it has to be done just right. You know—hell, everyone knows—last year, we had sacrificed almost all of the animals before, well…”
“The blade broke!” Tullia blurted.
“Yes! That damn jagged blade broke, right in the middle of the last sacrifice of the last sow. Not a clean cut. The thing just wouldn’t die.”
“A bad omen.”
“An abomination!” I thundered. Tullia looked down and was silent.
“And what is the remedy for that?” I retorted a little forcefully to make up for her silence. “You know, of course. Everyone knows—we had to start over. To round up replacement animals and start the whole thing over. We didn’t finish until two hours after the sun had set, which in itself was a grave transgression of the rites—although much less so than the abomination of the broken blade. By then, there were bodies of animals piled up in two of the inner courtyards and half of the outer courtyards as well. It took the Temple and the public slaves both halfway until morning to get that abomination out of the sacred courtyards.”
“I see. Please forgive me for bringing it up. I just know how close you had become to that calf.”
“Tullia, you’ve been very kind to me these past few years. But if I have become close to that calf, it was only so I could become closer to Diana by completing this year’s sacrifice as it needs to be—not as it was last year.” I paused to catch my breath, then went on. “The way to the goddess—no, the way to the goddess’ protection, and to meaning and order in the world… the way to love itself even—is to do the rituals exactly as they’ve been prescribed since our ancestors. Romans have been sacrificing to Diana since long before any of us ever took our first breath in this world.”
“I am sorry,” she stammered.
“So please Tullia don’t suggest that again.”
“Of course not. No, I am sorry. I won’t bring it up again.” She looked at me. She was still half a head taller than me, and I had to crane my neck up. “When you are Sacerdote,” she told me, looking me in the eye now, “I am absolutely certain that there will be no problems like the one last year with the rituals.”
“That is so kind of you. You were always so kind to me. Thank you.”
4
Four
“Do you think you can trust her?” Tullia asked me.
“No. Not really.” I thought about it a second. “Well, yes maybe. Oh, I don’t know.”
The Emperor had appointed Antonia two months ago as a priestess of the order. Not just as a priestess. As second in the order. Second only to me. I had been worried when she arrived that she would try to usurp my authority, to undermine me, to try to push me out.
But she had been so nice to me.
“She’s been very nice so far,” I went on. “And she has never once undermined my authority. Sure, she’s maybe stricter than we’ve been with letting the people make their offerings to the goddess, but to her credit, she has never once said even a word in public that would undermine me.”
“But she’s told you directly, right? That’s challenging your authority, isn’t it?” Tullia asked.
“Well, maybe. But she just wants what we all want.”
“If you ask me, the Temple is doing just fine. Most of Italy, and half of Greece seem to either come here to sacrifice, or send their donatives so we can do it on their behalf. Diana has never been more well respected in Rome.”
“It is doing well. But we have not been as strict on ensuring the piety of the worshipers we let into the courtyards as maybe we should have been. If nothing bad has come of that, it can only be due to the patient mercy of the great goddess herself.”
“What do you mean ‘as we should have?’” Tullia asked.
“Well, we just let anyone in, to sacrifice to the goddess. Last week, there was a woman who was on her way back to Rome from her villa. Her husband was with the legions in some godforsaken place, maybe in… oh, I don’t know. But you know what? She had the worst and most amoral past. She’d slept around with half the Senate while he was gone, and half of the bay of Naples when he wasn’t.”
“Uh, how do you…”
“Well, that’s the thing. Antonia was nice enough to warn me of her, just in time to prevent me from making the grave error of letting her in, and letting the Temple be defaced by her presence. And she—Antonia, I me
an—didn’t embarrass me or anything like she could have. She just pulled me aside the night before that hussy was set to arrive.”
“And?”
“And Antonia let me know. And thank the goddess she did. Otherwise, I almost certainly would have let her in, just as we do with all the women who come with just sincerity, and an open heart, seeking hope here.”
“What’s wrong with that? It’s…”
“This immoral woman would have defiled the sanctity of Diana, of her Temple. You know Tullia, Antonia, she didn’t do anything herself; Antonia didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to go out of her way to warn me; she could have just let this hussy in, to do whatever harm she may by her presence. But Antonia was so loyal to me, that she told me this—and she didn’t say a word to try to take credit. But the decision to bar the lady will be credited to me alone.”
“As it should be, Sacerdote.”
“Well, I didn’t let her into the Temple. Not to sacrifice. Not to desecrate everything we’ve built. Not at all.”
“You turned her away?”
“Flat.”
“Do you remember the woman’s name? I can’t seem to keep anything straight anymore.”
“Probably some provincial centurion’s wife or more likely, concubine that he captured as war booty in one of those backward, foreign provinces in the East. Oh, give me a minute, it’ll come to me,” I said, racking my brain. “The name will come to me… Anyway, Antonia was right. I’m just glad the good goddess’ name was not tarnished by letting in a dirty woman like this.”
Tullia forced what little she could of a smile. Suddenly, she blurted out, “Julia! I remember now—it’s Julia, that’s her name. Julia of the Clavii. I remember. And oh, that look she gave your slave girl at the door to the Temple when she was told that you would not be receiving her. That look was to die for.”
We both laughed.
“Remember it. It’s probably the last we’ll see of her, I imagine, for quite some time. Anyway, she’ll probably be off sacrificing to some foreign cult in the East soon enough. I think she’s traveling out that way, to be with her husband. He’s off—where was it now? In Dacia, maybe? Or some such miserable province.”
“Well, good riddance. What’s her husband’s name, by the way?”
“I think it was Marcius something… Marcius Turbo.”
5
Five
“Wake up. The Prefect is here.” Arescusa was in the room talking loudly. It took me a minute before I could process what she was saying. “He’s arrived sooner than we’d expected domina. Wake up. Please domina—wake up.”
I opened my eyes. How long had it been? I just went to sleep, no? How long was I out? Did I dream? I think maybe, but I woke up so quickly that, if I had been dreaming, whatever it was had been obliterated by Arescusa’s shaking me.
“Who’s arrived? For godsakes Arescusa—what is it?”
As soon as I asked the question, I remembered.
The Praetorian Prefect. It came back to me with a thud—we’d been waiting for him to arrive. How long had I been asleep? Damn.
“Turbo.” We both said the word at the same time. Now I was awake. I looked at Arescusa, and sat up.
“I need to get ready quickly. Have the slaves finished preparing the meal for dinner?”
Looking more than a little off-guard, she stammered, “Why, uh, yes. It’s finished. But the—”
“—Well, I must get ready then,” I cut her off and got off the bed. I started looking around for my ceremonial garments. “Quickly Arescusa! Quickly now.”
“But domina, that’s just it. He will not be dining with us tonight. He’s… he’s…”
“He’s what! Say it girl—he’s what?”
“Well, he’s traveling back to Rome from the East with a legion. They’ve made camp. But he has requested to dine only with Antonia.”
“Antonia? That’s scandalous! Antonia? Dining alone with the Praetorian Prefect?”
“Not alone, domina. He is also accompanied by his wife I believe…”
Arescusa broke down crying before she could finish the sentence.
“What is it Arescusa?” I raised my voice, asking with some force.
“We… I mean, you—you know her already.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I snapped. “How could I possibly know—”
“Domina,” Arescusa said softly but firmly enough to get my attention, “She is the woman you turned away. The one Antonia advised you to turn away.”
“Julia? Of the Clavii, right? But what on earth is she doing out here… with…”
And then it hit me. I got a sick feeling in my stomach. I turned my head and threw up onto the side wall next to the bed.
“No, no, no, no,” I murmured. “Turbo? She is the one married to Turbo? To the Praetorian Prefect? Aaargghhh!” I shouted in a sudden rage. Then I turned back to Arescusa. “But why? Why would Antonia want to have anything to do with that woman? That hussy? She is so… so…”
Then one more click fell into place. I let my voice trail off and staggered back to the bed. I just sat there, dazed, listening as Arescusa talked.
“Antonia. Who the Emperor put as second only to you, domina, in the priesthood of Diana. Antonia, the sister of Antinous, the Emperor’s lover. She is dining tonight in the villa just outside the legionary camp where the Prefect is staying, together with his—”
“—together with his wife.” My stunned recognition wore off just enough for my rage to rush up. “Turbo! Julia of the Clavii. Turbo. Of course. She is the wife of the new Praetorian Prefect Marcius Turbo. And that bitch Antonia—aargghhh! That bitch told me to turn her out. She lied! Antonia lied to me! And I trusted her, advice… I… I—”
“You did what any god-fearing Roman matron with respect would do domina. You turned her away, to protect the piety and the sanctity of Diana’s Temple.”
“I turned away the Praetorian Prefect’s wife. I… I… How could I be so blind?”
I buried my head in my hands.
“You did not know,” my slave tried to comfort me.
Arescusa was trying to comfort me.
I exploded; I brushed her out of the way. Then I crumpled into a heap on the floor, and cried. “She betrayed me. She set me up! She… she… lied!” I sobbed.
“It is okay, domina. Everyone will know it was Antonia’s idea—”
“No one will know, Arescusa. No one! She pushed me, to be harder, to be more pious—to be strict and crackdown. And I was such a trusting idiot, I thought Antonia was being so modest, giving me all the credit for these decisions. That snake!”
In my head, I roared like a lion. Out of my mouth, I whimpered like a baby. She set me up. She set me up. She set me up.
After a night when we had to put up with the noisy celebrations coming from the soldier’s camp, and worse—from their commander’s villa—including not a small number of raucous outbursts from women, the rest was pretty much a blur. I must have fallen asleep for a little, but I can’t remember when, or how long, or even if I slept. The next morning when I woke up, it wasn’t Arescusa who was waking me. It was one of the public slave girls that was returning to Rome with the legion. Behind her, and just outside my door, I could see a man. How dare he! A man, in here…
He wore a toga, probably in deference to the sanctity of the Temple. But where his toga ended, I could see the rough-hewn sandals of an officer. More telling, beneath the folds of his toga, off on his right hip, I could see the unmistakable outline of a commander’s gladius.
“This will do,” he said. A person next to him who must have been a junior officer—he was in full legionary uniform, so there couldn’t be any misunderstanding—stood next to him nodding, taking notes with a wooden stylus onto a wax tablet.
“Please stand up. Sacerdote. I do not believe we’ve had the pleasure of meeting yet. I am Quintus.” He stretched out his hand to help me up.
I bowed my head.
“Quintus Marcius Turbo.”
/> “Yes Prefect. We have been awaiting your—”
He brusquely cut me off.
“I also do not believe you’ve had the pleasure of properly meeting my wife. Julia. Apparently, you turned her away.”
“I am sorry, Your Excellency,” I said, my eyes turned down.
“I am sorry too,” he answered brusquely. “But I am not unkind, as I think you will find out shortly.”
“Your Excellency?” I asked, puzzled. “Prefect,” I started to plead, not having an idea what I was going to say, even though I had started talking. No matter—he cut me off again.
That moment I replayed in my head over and over for years, long after it was over. What if I had just said something? What if I kept talking, pleading, begging even though he cut me off? He did say he was not unkind. But in the end, in my mind, and most importantly—in that room that day—I did not say anything. He cut me off, I remained silent, and that was that.
“Such cruelty you’ve brought here to the goddess’ Temple, turning away virtuous Roman women like my wife. These are women who’ve committed no transgression greater than wanting to sacrifice to the good goddess for protection of their husbands, and of the legions they serve with. Is that now a crime, in the eyes of the good goddess?”
I should have said something, anything. But no words came out.
“This strict cruelty of yours must be brought to an end. The Temple of Diana must be open to the women of Rome, to come, to sacrifice, to receive comfort. Not to be turned out like beggars and common thieves.”
“But my lord, the Emperor’s, er I mean Antonia had…”
It was no use. My voice trembled too much. My resolve wavered, and all at once, fell away. I stood silent there before him.
