Fortune's Fool

by Albert A. Bell

  “And that was…thirty-five years ago?”

  “Yes, my lord. As soon as Delia realized she was pregnant, your uncle married her to me. I was eighteen at the time. Delia was a year younger.”

  “Was there any particular reason he chose you?”

  Instead of answering the question, Felix raised his tunic. He was wearing a loincloth, unusual for a man who wasn’t doing hard work, but not unheard of. He lowered the cloth enough for me to see that he had been castrated. I couldn’t help but recoil from the sight.

  “When was that done?”

  “When I was sixteen, my lord.” He shivered at the memory and I motioned for him to cover himself again.

  “Did my uncle do it?” I had never heard of my uncle doing such an unspeakable thing to a servant. Enough owners, wanting male servants whom they could trust around their wives, have done it that Domitian recently issued an edict against the practice.

  “No, my lord. It was done by my previous owner.”

  “Why?” Before I put any man in close proximity to Aurora, I had to know his full story, and there was apparently more to Felix’s story than I had suspected.

  “My owner’s daughter got pregnant. I was not the father, my lord,” he added quickly. “But another servant in the house was. The girl accused me, and her lover swore that he had heard me boasting about it. He even said I told him about a mole on her body in a place that only a lover would see. He, of course, had seen it. My master…did this to me and made his daughter watch.” His voice caught and he paused. “He swore he would do the same, or worse, to any man who touched her. Once I had recovered, he sold me to your uncle.”

  I ran my fingers on the edge of the table while I considered this astounding development in my plan. “Men who have been castrated are sometimes still able to couple, even if they can no longer father a child.”

  “Sadly, my lord, I am not one of those.”

  I tried not to show my relief. “So my uncle knew you would not be able to couple with Delia.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Does anyone else in the household know you’ve been castrated?”

  “I don’t think so, my lord.” He seemed to be trying to decide what to do with his hands. He clasped them in front of him, then lowered them to his sides. “It’s not something one boasts about. I act as though I’m overly modest and that’s why I wear a loincloth and prefer to bathe alone. There’s a rumor that I’m a Jew, ashamed of my circumcision. I’d rather be teased about that than about…this.”

  “Your voice isn’t unusually high.”

  “No, my lord. For that I am thankful.”

  “So Delia’s child really was my uncle’s?” That would confirm what I had learned over the past few months as I considered who among my servants would make a suitable—that is, safe—husband for Aurora. I had a cousin I’d never heard of.

  “I’m sure he was, my lord, although your uncle never acknowledged the boy. I raised him as my son until your uncle emancipated him and found him a place as an apprentice with a goldsmith in Comum.”

  “What was the boy’s name?”

  “He was called Marcus Delius, my lord.”

  Another point confirmed. I had seen one reference to that name in a letter. “Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know, my lord. I was told that he ran away.”

  That would have made him no better than a fugitive slave. Although he had been freed, Delius still had an obligation to my uncle and to the goldsmith who was feeding him and training him for a respectable profession. “When did that happen?”

  “Not long after he was apprenticed, my lord. Twenty years ago.”

  I was barely four at the time. I could not recall ever having heard the name Marcus Delius until I was looking through some of my uncle’s letters and notes earlier this summer. When I saw the name and guessed his relationship to me, I felt some impulse to know more about him. As the only surviving child of an only child, I have no circle of relatives, so even a bastard cousin piques my curiosity. But if no one had seen or heard of him in twenty years, it seemed unlikely that I would ever learn anything. It would be like trying to track an animal days after it has passed through a forest and the trail has grown cold or been washed away.

  “What else do you know about him?”

  “Just that he was a difficult lad, my lord. His mother died when he was eight. After that, there was little anyone could do with him. He ran roughshod over the other children in the household—even older ones—and you could never get the truth out of him. He took great delight in sneaking up on people. He had no respect for me as his father. Sometimes I felt he had guessed the truth. I think your uncle freed him just to be rid of him.”

  “Or to remove evidence of his indiscretion.”

  “That could well be, my lord. But that was the last anyone in our house heard of him or spoke of him.”

  I paused to think what I was going to say next. Although I had known from two comments in my uncle’s letters that Felix was married to Delia, I hadn’t been able to learn why he was picked to play the role of her husband. I thought it must have been because my uncle believed he could count on the man to restrain himself and be content to pretend to be a husband or that he had hung some dire threat over his head, like the sword of Damocles. As it turned out, the blade had been hung a bit lower, but it meant that Felix was the best possible candidate for the role of Aurora’s husband.

  “My lord, you said I wasn’t going to stay here. Do you have some task for me? At my age I hope it’s one I will be able to carry out.”

  “Yes, and I don’t think you’ll find it onerous.” I paused and took a breath before saying the words that would commit me. “I want you to marry my slave Aurora.”

  Other than blinking a couple of times, he showed no surprise. “Is she pregnant, my lord?”

  “No, she’s not. But otherwise the situation is the same as the one my uncle faced.”

  “May I ask if you love her, my lord?”

  I slapped the stylus on the desk and Felix stepped back as much as the small room allowed. “No, you may not. That is most impertinent.”

  My outburst didn’t faze him. “If you do love her, my lord, then the situation is not the same as your uncle’s.”

  I stood without moving any closer to him, but Felix, who was somewhat taller than I am, leaned back anyway. “What do you mean?” I demanded.

  “Your uncle did not love Delia, my lord. He treated her well and was affectionate to her, but she told me that he did not love her. He had told her so himself. She was not to expect love from him, he said. It broke her heart. More than that, it broke her will to live when she became ill.”

  I was surprised to hear that. From what I had seen of my uncle with Aurora’s mother, Monica, I would have said that he loved her. He grieved deeply when she died. But this was not a conversation I wanted to be having with a slave.

  “You understand your role then.”

  “Yes, my lord. Your uncle made it clear that I was not to touch my ‘wife’ except to show a bit of affection in front of others—holding hands, a peck on the cheek perhaps. I assume those rules will apply in this case.”

  “Yes, but don’t overdo it.” It galled me to think of any man being allowed even that degree of intimacy with the woman I love.

  “Will we be sharing a room?”

  The question stopped me for a moment. “I’ll have to work all that out, but I suppose you will.” Livia wouldn’t stand for any other arrangement, I was sure, even though we do not share a room ourselves.

  “So your wife will think it’s a real marriage?” His tone was more kind than accusatory.

  “That is my hope.”

  “When will this marriage begin, my lord?”

  I sat back down at the writing table and picked up my stylus. “This afternoon.” When something is inevitable, there’s no point in delaying it. The dread is usually worse than the actuality.

  He nodded his understanding. “Will I hav
e any other duties in the house, my lord?”

  “Yes, you’ll be doing in Rome what you were doing in Tuscany. My man in Rome is sixty. Keeping supplies in order for such a large house is starting to wear on him.”

  “I’d best work with him for a while, my lord. It will take me a month or two to get acquainted with the people you buy from and to see who’s cheating you.”

  I looked up at him in surprise. “Why do you think someone is cheating me?”

  “Did the sun rise this morning, my lord? As surely as that, merchants are always cheating you. There’s a reason why Hermes is the god of travelers, merchants, and thieves. It’s merely a question of how much cheating your servants allow or are aware of, and how deeply they’re involved in it.”

  “How much cheating goes on at my estate in Tuscany?” That estate has always been the most profitable of my properties.

  Felix straightened his shoulders, like a soldier coming to attention. “Only the little bit that I simply cannot ferret out, my lord. There’s always that little bit, no matter how diligent one is.”

  * * *

  “Aurora dear, may I come in?” Julia’s voice sounded from the other side of my door. I was too angry to have company at the moment, but I couldn’t refuse her. Sometimes I wonder what it would feel like to be able to say no, even to Gaius. Not that he’s ever forced me to do anything I didn’t want to—until today.

  “Yes, my lady.”

  I stood as she entered my room and closed the door. She’s shorter than I am, as most women are, with a round, fair face and the impish smile of a child who’s always planning some mischief. She was carrying something in a bag.

  “First of all,” she said, “let’s have none of that ‘my lady’ business when there’s no one else around. We’re friends and we have to get you ready for your wedding. Gaius is telling everyone it will take place today.”

  “Today?”

  “Yes, in a few hours, I think.”

  “Damn him!”

  Julia twisted up her mouth as though she had tasted something sour. “Aurora, you know I won’t tell anyone anything you say, but you need to be careful how you talk about him. You never know who might be listening.”

  I had crossed the boundary between servant and friend. “Yes, of course, I’m sorry.”

  “Now, you want to look your best for your wedding, don’t you?”

  “I don’t even know who I’m being married to. Why would I want to look my best for him?” I folded my arms over my chest. I knew I looked and sounded like a petulant child, but I was hurt, deeply hurt. Gaius should have told me. It was as simple as that.

  Julia touched my hair. “It’s not your husband you’re trying to impress, silly girl. We’re going to make Gaius Pliny regret he ever decided to do this.”

  I stamped my foot and could hardly keep from crying. “Why did he do it, Julia? Why can’t he stand up to Livia and his mother? Tell them to—”

  “You should count yourself lucky that he doesn’t.” Julia hugged me for a moment, then sat me down. “That shows you he’s a man who cares about those around him and how they feel.”

  “What about how I feel?”

  “Gaius knows how you feel. And you know he loves you. You two have told each other that, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then trust what he’s told you. Men like him and Tacitus don’t always have a choice about what they do. What Gaius is arranging is his best option in this situation. If he didn’t find you a husband, he’d have to send you somewhere else. This way, he is actually standing up to Livia. She wants you gone, but he’s keeping you here, where he wants you to be.”

  I sighed heavily. I hadn’t seen the situation in those terms. “I guess you’re right. But what am I supposed to do tonight? Am I to couple with my ‘husband’?”

  Julia looked at me, with her head cocked, like I was the stupidest person she had ever met. “Do you honestly think Gaius is going to put you in a room with a man without making it clear to him that he’s never to touch you? If he could find a eunuch for the job, I’m sure that’s who would be your husband.”

  I laughed in spite of myself.

  “That’s the spirit. All you’ll have to worry about is how much he snores or farts in his sleep.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Of course I am. I assure you, it’s not going to be easy for Gaius to marry you to another man, even if it’s only a pretense. And, by the time we’re done here, he’s going to be on his knees begging your forgiveness.”

  Opening her bag, she pulled out a white tunic—the traditional bride’s dress. Motioning for me to stand, she held it up against my cheek.

  “This was my wedding gown. I added the filigree. With my pale skin, I would rather have worn something darker, but it will look stunning on you. I let down the hem.”

  “Wait. You brought your wedding dress? Did you know Gaius was going to do this?”

  “Oh, well…he said…something about it.”

  “He told you and Tacitus before you left Rome but didn’t tell me?” My voice was rising, just like my anger.

  The look of surprise on Julia’s face seemed genuine. “He didn’t tell you?”

  “Not until this morning.”

  Julia held the dress away from me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”

  “Oh, that man!”

  “Don’t get yourself worked up. You don’t need a lot of distress now.”

  “You mean, distress like being forced to marry some man I’ve never met.” I sighed and tried to calm down.

  Julia patted my belly. “Have you told Gaius yet?”

  “No.” I put my hand over hers. “I was going to tell him this morning, when he asked me to go riding with him. But then he told me about this marriage.”

  “So you’ve told me—”

  “Only after you suspected.”

  “But you admitted it. And yet you’re angry at Gaius for not telling you something important.”

  It wasn’t fair of her to inject logic into the conversation. “You haven’t said anything to Tacitus, have you?”

  Julia gave a quick shake of her head. “No. I promised you I wouldn’t. But a man has every right to know when a woman is carrying his child.”

  “Because it’s his property, I know, just like I’m his property, to be married off whenever he sees fit.”

  “Aurora, you know Gaius doesn’t think of you that way.”

  Before I could say anything—and what could I say? I sounded ridiculous to myself—we heard a knock on the door. A woman’s voice that I didn’t recognize said, “My lord Pliny would like to speak with Aurora.”

  Julia, who was standing closer to the door, opened it just a crack and said, “He’ll have to wait. We’re getting her ready for her wedding. He wants her to get married, so that’s what we’re doing.”

  * * *

  I finally had a few moments to open the note from Caninius Rufus that Phineas had handed me. Caninius is a fine poet, and we’ve known one another since childhood. This note was short, but not pleasant to read. He was writing a poem in which he wanted to make an allusion to the eruption of Vesuvius and the death of my uncle almost six years ago. “Would you mind,” he asked, “describing what you saw? I know those memories are painful, but I hope enough time has passed that you can think back on them more calmly now.”

  I dropped the note onto my writing table. Fortune had spared my mother and me from that catastrophe. Now it seemed determined to keep the memory in front of me.

  II

  The man who has planned badly, if fortune is on his side, may have a stroke of luck, but his plan was a bad one nonetheless.

  —Herodotus

  Tacitus, my mother, Naomi, and a few other servants gathered in the garden that afternoon for the wedding of Felix and Aurora. A bride is supposed to be accompanied by a woman who has been married only once and whose husband is still living. Even though this wasn’t a formal wedding, Julia, in that role,
came out of Aurora’s room with her and stood beside her.

  Everyone in the garden held their breath as Aurora walked along the winding path, past the fountain, and came to a stop in front of me. I couldn’t look at her, partly because she was more beautiful than I’d ever seen her—her hair swept up and pinned in a way that made me ache to kiss her neck, makeup applied with just the right touch—and partly because I thought she was going to bore a hole through me with her eyes. The rest of her face betrayed no emotion, but I had never seen such anger in her eyes. I fixed my gaze on Julia, who had more than her usual half smile playing on her lips.

  As Aurora took her place beside Felix and nodded to acknowledge him, my mother patted her on the arm and said something to her, but so softly I couldn’t hear her. Aurora smiled modestly in return and kissed my mother on the cheek. The second best thing that has happened to me in the last six months is that my mother’s animosity to Aurora—which had its roots in her resentment of the relationship between Aurora’s mother and my uncle—has softened.

  Slaves cannot legally marry in the sense that free persons can, but I do allow my servants to establish what amounts to marital relationships, which I recognize as binding. I also allow them to make wills, something very few masters do, and I act as executor of those wills when the time comes. Since a marriage between slaves is not legally binding, we did not engage in the offerings and oaths that solemnize a marriage. The way Aurora was dressed surprised me—the white gown and orange veil with matching shoes and the knotted belt around her waist. She could not have known in advance to procure the traditional dress for a bride—the tunica recta.

  Then I understood Julia’s smile and Aurora’s anger and knew that I had made a serious mistake in not saying something to Aurora earlier.