“Why would you go off by yourself like this?” Aurora asked as we plodded back through the woods toward my villa. “If I hadn’t decided to come down here—”
I touched the Tyche ring.
XVI
Refrain from asking what will happen tomorrow; every day that fortune grants you, count as gain.
—Horace
Two days later, in midafternoon, we came within sight of Livia’s villa in Umbria and drew to a halt. The house is on the east side of Lake Trasimene, off the road to Perusia. We had stopped on a rise in the road and could see the entire estate. Most of the land was given over to growing olives. Tacitus and I were on horseback, along with several servants riding with us as guards, while Felix drove a wagon, with Aurora fidgeting at his side. She can’t be around a horse without wanting to ride it or drive it. Julia sat more patiently in the back, playing with one of the macabre skull masks we had taken as a kind of booty. She and Tacitus had decided not to continue to their estate in Gaul. The rest of their servants would pack and return with their wagons to Rome.
“Shall we wait here for you, my lord?” Felix asked.
“That won’t be necessary. Go on into Perusia and see what kind of accommodations you can find us. I don’t expect to be here long. She may not even let me in the door.”
“Do you want me to come with you?” Tacitus asked.
I pondered for a moment. “That’s probably a good idea.”
Julia gave a short laugh. “Somebody may have to carry your body out.”
I decided to take a couple of the servants along for protection on the road. By the time we reached the front of the house, the servants we passed along the way had relayed the news of our arrival. Livia’s steward was waiting for us. I had met the man on my one trip up here shortly after our wedding but could not remember his name.
“This is an unexpected pleasure, my lord,” he lied. “Shall we prepare rooms for you?”
“No. I was passing by on my way back to Rome and wanted to see how my wife is doing. I won’t be staying.”
“Very well. I’ll let her know you’re here, my lord. Please, come into the garden and have some wine while you wait.”
Tacitus and the servants stopped in the atrium while I continued into the garden, where I waited for probably a quarter of an hour. At least the wine was good and the garden had some charm, with a fountain in the center and a pleasant variety of vegetation. I stood when Livia came into view, accompanied by Procne and two other servants. She wore a white gown with a red mantle. Her hair was loose and damp, as though she had just washed it, and her eyes appeared dark and sunken from lack of sleep.
“Thank you for sending my father’s bones to me,” she said without any prelude or warmth. “In your letter you didn’t explain what happened to him.”
“I didn’t want to put anything in writing that might fall into the wrong hands. I thought I would tell you in person.”
“Then let’s sit down.”
We seated ourselves on the shady side of the garden and, at my request, she dismissed her servants. As succinctly as possible, I told her that Pompeius had confessed to arguing with her father over sharing the money from a business deal, and one of his henchmen had killed Livius.
“What sort of business deal? You’re being evasive, Gaius.”
“The details are complex and unnecessary. I don’t fully understand it myself.” Better evasive than lurid. I had no desire to destroy her perception of her father. Nor did I want to tell her that her brooch—the prized gift from her father which she was wearing at that moment—was made by the man who killed him.
“So, your father didn’t actually kill my father,” she said when I finished.
“No, thank the gods. He was complicit in covering up the murder, though, and he blackmailed Romatius and Pompeius for years. He set up a complicated arrangement by which they had to continue paying long after he died. I’m going to have to see what I can do to make it up to their children.”
“Well, then, it sounds like that’s all settled.” She folded her hands in her lap.
I nodded. “Pompeius and his henchman are both dead. No one will be bothering you anymore.”
“Thank you for coming to tell me all of this.” Her voice brightened slightly. “Are you on your way back to Rome?”
“Yes.”
“I wish you a safe journey, and I’m sure you want to get back on the road.” She might as well have pushed me toward the door.
“There is one more reason for me to be here,” I said.
“What is that?” Her voice, now flat again, revealed how unhappy she was that she had to talk to me any longer.
“I wanted to find out how you’re faring.”
She drew back and studied me before she said, “Why do you even care?”
“Livia, you’re my wife. Of course I care.”
“Well, I managed to sleep through most of last night,” she said. “Dreams of being in that cave woke me only twice.”
“I’m sorry that it still troubles you so much.”
“Troubles me? Gaius, it horrifies me. I can still see all that blood and can feel the sword at my throat. No matter how many times I bathe, I still feel that animal’s hands all over me and his blood in my hair and on my face.” She wiped her hands over her body and face.
“Those memories will fade, I promise you. It has been only a few days.”
“It feels like a lifetime. I even considered shaving my head and wearing a wig.” Her tears welled up, and I suspected they were real. “Tell me, how can you lie with a woman who has killed a man?”
I didn’t bother denying that Aurora and I had coupled. I wondered how Livia would react if I told her that, by saving her life, Aurora had lost my child—our child. But that would only give her another weapon to use against me. “People might ask the same question if I were to lie with you.”
“Liburnius’ death was an accident.” She said it slowly but with less vehemence than before, like someone who’s tired of repeating a lie but determined not to tell the truth. “I told you. He slipped in the bath and hit his head.”
“Do you still expect me to believe that? He violated you in what you considered a particularly vile way, and you took your vengeance. You admitted as much in your hysteria at Eustachius’ quarry.”
She drew her mantle more tightly around her. “A woman can say anything when she’s hysterical. You can’t prove a word of it.”
I took a sip of wine. “So, what are you going to do? Are you going to continue to live here?”
“I cannot risk my life by living with you, Gaius. Livilla was right about that. You attract danger. You’ve settled this business, but something else will come up. Sometimes I think you seek out trouble.”
“If you want a divorce, I won’t stand in your way.”
“No. We both know that you won’t initiate a divorce because of what it would cost you, and I won’t do it because I would be left with only this estate. I can’t live on that. Before we married we agreed on how much money you’ll provide for me. I’ll just have to keep a safe distance from you—and from your knife-wielding paramour.”
“Are you expecting me to keep to that bargain when you aren’t fulfilling your obligation as my wife?” Not that I wanted her to in the least.
“You know, don’t you, that I could inform on you and…her for that knife. Slaves can’t run around armed, killing people.”
“And what would you gain if I lost everything?”
Livia pursed her lips. “Some satisfaction at seeing what happens to her. But, don’t worry, I won’t do that. Ruining you would cost me more than I’m willing to pay. All I’ll say—and then only if I’m asked—is that she helped you and Tacitus rescue me when I was kidnapped. It was dark in the cave. I was frightened and everything happened so fast, I suppose I’m not sure who did what.”
“And what about Procne? She was there, too.”
“Procne was only half-conscious. She doesn’t know what happen
ed. All she remembers is the pain of having her wound cauterized.”
She stood and I did as well.
“I’m sorry I cannot love you, Gaius, and even sorrier that you cannot love me. But, then, I doubt that any man could.”
“That’s not true.”
“Well, no, not entirely. My father did love me, and not just because he had to.”
For the first time I felt sympathy for her. The one person in her life whom she cherished had been a brutal, perverted monster who, frankly, deserved to be killed and stuffed in a wall. “Livia, you are my wife. If you give me the chance, I will honor and protect you as a husband should.”
She touched my arm and almost smiled. “That’s a very pained expression on your face, Gaius, the expression of a dutiful husband, but not a loving one. Now, you need to leave. I’m sure she’s out there, not far away, and you want to get back to her.” She gestured toward the door.
I didn’t know what to say.
“Is that so-called husband of hers with you?”
I nodded.
“As long as she remains married to him and in the background of your life, I won’t stand in your way. Just don’t humiliate me.”
* * *
We found rooms in a very nice inn in Perusia and sent a servant to watch at the city gate and tell Gaius and Tacitus where we were. The other servants were given rooms on the top floor, while Tacitus and Julia, Felix and I, and Gaius got rooms on the second floor. Felix understood, of course, that I would be spending the night in Gaius’ room. “I’m unaccustomed to sharing a bed with anyone else,” he said as I gave him a kiss on the cheek and went out the door.
Gaius and I did not make love. I knew I wasn’t ready for it, and Gaius was too considerate to insist on anything. It was such a relief to lie beside him, knowing that, with the servants on another floor, no one would be surprised, or dismayed, to see me walk out of this room in the morning. He stretched out on his back, with his left arm around me, drawing me close to him. My head rested on his shoulder.
“Do you think Livia is really going to let us be together?” I asked him.
“She said she wouldn’t stand in our way. I do feel an obligation to make it up to her that my father was involved in the murder of her father and the hiding of his body. I can never divorce her or embarrass her the way her first husband did.”
“You wouldn’t do that anyway, you dear man.” I kissed him on the neck. “Our relationship can never be more than it is. I understand that.”
“I could emancipate you and—”
I put a finger on his lips. “Then how could I be yours?”
“She does expect that you remain as unobtrusive as possible and married to Felix.”
“That would be the best arrangement,” I told him.
Gaius ran his hand through my hair and kissed my forehead. “I’m surprised to hear you say that. It wasn’t how you felt when I told you that you were going to be married.”
I punched his chest playfully. “That was because of the clumsy way you handled it. Felix is a nice man. I actually enjoy his company. He’s more like a father, except he won’t sell me. And, if I should be with child again, it will seem perfectly natural to everyone else because I have a husband.”
We lay quietly for a while, listening to a storm build up and unleash its fury outside. I snuggled closer to Gaius. “Do you remember that night, when we were eight…”
Epilogue
Gaius Pliny to his friend Romatius Firmus, greetings.
You and I were born in the same township, were schoolmates together, and have been friends since childhood. Your father was a good friend of my mother and my uncle, and a friend to me as well—given the difference in our ages. These are compelling reasons why I ought to help you advance in your career. The fact that you hold the office of decurion in Comum shows that you have a fortune of 100,000 sesterces. In order that we may have the pleasure of seeing you not only as a decurion, but as a Roman knight, I am giving you 300,000 sesterces, to enable you to qualify for equestrian rank.
We’ve been friends long enough to guarantee that you will not forget this favor. I don’t have to urge you to enjoy the equestrian dignity which this gift will allow you to attain, because I’m sure you will do so from your own innate nature. People ought to guard an honor all the more carefully, when, in so doing, they are taking care of a gift bestowed by the kindness of a friend.
Farewell.
—Pliny, Ep. 1.19.
Cast of Characters
Historical Persons
Caecilius Pliny’s biological father. Pliny never mentions him in his letters, but since his name, after adoption by his uncle, was Gaius Plinius Caecilius Secundus, we know his father’s family name (nomen gentilicum) was Caecilius. Inscriptions from around Comum mention men named Caecilius, but we don’t know if any of them was Pliny’s father.
Julia Daughter of Julius Agricola and wife of Tacitus. All we know about her is that she and Tacitus were still married in the late 90s, when Tacitus wrote the Agricola, his encomium of his father-in-law.
Lutulla I’m not sure where to put Lutulla. Her name appears in an inscription from around Comum, and she seems to have had some connection with a Caecilius. Whether either of them have anything to do with Pliny, we don’t know.
Plinia Pliny’s mother and the sister of Pliny the Elder. Pliny mentions her in only a couple of his letters, particularly 6.16 and 6.20, those describing the eruption of Vesuvius. We have no idea when she was born or when she died.
Pompeia Celerina In several letters Pliny mentions or writes to his mother-in-law, Pompeia Celerina, but he never mentions the name of her daughter (his wife) or her husband’s name. Relations between Pliny and his mother-in-law seem to have been cordial later. In this book they are off to a rocky start. Pompeia owned an estate at the town of Narnia, northeast of Rome, which Pliny enjoyed visiting.
Romatius Firmus A childhood friend of Pliny’s. Several letters are addressed to him (see Epilogue). He apparently stayed on in Comum as an adult.
Fictional Characters
Aurora Pliny’s servant and lover. After a brief first appearance in The Blood of Caesar, she has become a more and more important character and her relationship to Pliny has deepened.
Barbatus The stablemaster on Pliny’s estate near Comum.
Delius Illegitimate son of Pliny’s uncle, born to a mistress thirty-five years before the narrative date of this story.
Livia Pliny’s wife. Pliny was married two or three times, but the only wife he mentions by name is the last one, the youthful Calpurnia. The anonymous wife who was the daughter of Pompeia Celerina seems to have died about a.d. 96. Pliny mentions his affection for her in one of his letters.
Livilla Younger sister of Livia, first engaged to Pliny. She does not appear in this book but is referred to several times. If a man was named Livius, all of his daughters would be named Livia, the feminine form of his family name. Putting -illa on the end of the younger daughter’s name would serve to distinguish her from her older sister.
Naomi Servant and confidante of Pliny’s mother, and one of my favorite characters. She is Jewish and has had some influence on Plinia’s thinking.
Phineas Son of Naomi, and Pliny’s chief scribe. He’s a couple of years older than Pliny. He and Naomi were taken captive at the capture of Jerusalem in a.d. 70.
Pompeius Brother of Pliny’s mother-in-law, Pompeia Celerina.
Tertia Her name would have been Pompeia Tertia, since she was the third daughter of a man named Pompeius. To avoid some confusion, I have called her Tertia, as she would have been called by her family.
Glossary of Terms
Also see glossaries in previous books in this series.
aedile Roman magistrate whose duties included public works (roads, sidewalks, etc.), staging games and shows, and overseeing fair dealing in the marketplaces.
clientela Every Roman aristocrat was a patron and had lower-class persons who were dependent on him. The root
cli- means to lean on, or rely on, someone. It’s also found in triclinium, where three people reclined on a dining couch. Clients were expected to be at their patron’s house early in the morning to greet him and receive a small donative to get them through the day and then accompany him as he went about his affairs in town. The size of a man’s clientela was an unmistakable measure of his wealth and prestige.
collegium A business partnership, usually among wealthy equestrians. The term could also cover a group of people, even a religious sect, who needed authorization to act as a corporation. Being recognized as a collegium gave them the right to own property, to establish a treasury, or to inherit when someone died.
equestrians The class of wealthy Romans just below the senatorial class, originally so called because they could afford to ride a horse into battle. Senators were forbidden to engage in any business, which left room for ambitious men from the lower classes to make fortunes. To qualify for equestrian rank, one had to have a total fortune of 400,000 sesterces (1,000,000 for the Senate). Periodically the censors would go over people’s accounts. If one’s fortune had slipped below the required mark, one would lose the equestrian status. Members of this class wore a narrow purple/red stripe on their clothing, the same color as, but not as broad as, the senatorial stripe.
hipposandals A kind of Roman horseshoes, strapped over a horse’s hooves when the animal had to pull a particularly heavy load or travel over rough terrain.
municipium The Romans established towns with various degrees of rights. A municipium was originally a settlement in Italy, but the term is later used of towns across the empire.
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