Claudia, Wife of Pontius Pilate

by Taylor, Diana Wallis

  He turned from the balcony and went to the door. The soldier on guard outside saluted.

  “Majesty?”

  “Bring me the Lady Scribonia.”

  Scribonia knew she had little to fear for her upkeep. She was of the praetorian class and the family holdings would insure her being able to live out her last days in comfort. At eighty, she was ready to spend her days in quiet retirement. She thought of her granddaughter and sighed. Claudia was now the emperor’s responsibility.

  This morning, she walked in her garden, shivering slightly in the cool air and feeling every bit her age. Her handmaid, Cassia, hurried toward her.

  “You have received a summons, Domina, from the emperor.”

  A summons? Why would the emperor send for me? A problem with Claudia? Then she knew. Julia. Her heart jolted in her chest. Though the anguish nearly overcame her, she braced her shoulders and, with great effort, gathered her emotions in a tight rein. He would not have the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

  Cassia slipped a stola of muted blue over her mistress’s shoulders and then a woolen shawl around her shoulders for warmth. Scribonia added a pair of pearl earrings and a silver pendant. With a heavy heart, she went down to the entrance of the villa where the coach waited.

  When she arrived at the palace, she was led to an atrium where a fountain seemed to play a melancholy sound as she waited.

  When Tiberius entered, she bowed her head. “You sent for me, Majesty?”

  He handed her the scroll in silence.

  She scanned the contents and the anguish of leaving her daughter alone in Reggio rose again in her heart. She wanted to fling the document in his face. Did he feel any remorse for what he’d put them through? Keeping her face bland, she fought for control. Julia was in the hands of the gods now. Cato was dead. It was too much for his heart. Gathering her thoughts carefully, she focused on the one thing that needed to be done. She looked up at Tiberius.

  “Majesty, Medina and I have been together many years. It would be good to have someone familiar in my old age.” She could not help Julia, but she could protect Medina.

  He considered the request a moment. “I will see what can be done.”

  “Thank you, Majesty.” She waited again.

  He took back the scroll. “It is a sorry task. You will inform your granddaughter.”

  “I will tell her.” She bowed her head and followed the steward down the halls she had once walked as Empress of Rome.

  She waved the steward away and stood for a moment, deciding just how she would phrase her words. In her eighty years she had seen much death. Unbidden tears welled up behind her eyes and she willed them away. Finally, she drew herself up and, gathering control once again, knocked.

  11

  Hotep opened the door and Claudia looked up from the chair by the window where she was working on an embroidery.

  “Grandmother!” She hurried across the room and threw her arms around Scribonia’s neck. “You came to see me.”

  Her grandmother not only allowed the embrace, she even returned it briefly. When they parted, there were tears in her grandmother’s eyes. Claudia stepped back, puzzled. She gently escorted her grandmother to a chair where the older woman sank down heavily.

  Claudia indicated her maidservant with one hand. “Grandmother, this is Hotep. It means peace in Egyptian.”

  Hotep bowed her head. “It is a pleasure to serve the dominilla, my lady.”

  Her grandmother nodded in acknowledgment.

  Claudia, sensing a purpose in her grandmother’s visit, looked at her face. “You didn’t just come to see me did you?”

  “No, child, though I would have come eventually. Tiberius sent for me. He received a courier from Reggio last night.” Her grandmother said quickly, “Your mother is dead.”

  The overwhelming pain struck like a dagger in Claudia’s heart and large tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. “I knew it would happen soon, but I haven’t wanted to think about her dying all alone.”

  “Medina and Cato were there, even if they could not enter the room. We can only pray that she died quickly.”

  Claudia nodded, and then in the haze of her emotions, she realized her grandmother might need something to eat or drink. She had traveled across the city to carry out this abominable errand for Tiberius.

  “Hotep, please bring some refreshments.”

  The girl bowed her head and hurried out the door. Claudia looked after her, knowing Hotep no longer needed to fear running into the prefect again in the dark hallways. She’d told the empress about the incident but not the perpetrator. Livia told Tiberius and word went out through the palace that Claudia and her maidservant were under his protection. The warning no doubt reached the ears of Sejanus.

  Claudia wiped her eyes with a corner of her stola. “Oh Grandmother, I miss her.” Both women were silent a moment, sharing their mutual sorrow. Then Claudia looked up. “Medina and Cato? What will become of them now?”

  Scribonia hesitated. “Cato had a weak heart. He is dead also.”

  Claudia gasped. Dear old Cato. She thought of the many times she’d watched him lovingly plant flowers in their garden.

  Her grandmother spoke again. “Medina wishes to return to me. I have petitioned Tiberius to let her do so. Now tell me what you have been doing since I left you here.”

  Claudia wrenched her mind from thoughts of her mother and dutifully told her grandmother about the dinner with Tiberius, meeting with the empress, and going to the Roman baths.

  “Livia was hard on your mother. Does she treat you well?”

  “Yes, she’s been kind to me.”

  Scribonia nodded. “Are you allowed out of the palace for any other reason?”

  “I may go to the marketplace with Hotep, but I must have a bodyguard.”

  “That is good. It could be dangerous for two young women alone.”

  Hotep returned with the wine and some fruit and cheese. As Scribonia sipped the diluted wine, she studied the maidservant over the rim of her cup. When she had finished the wine in silence, she put down the cup and slowly rose from the chair.

  “I must return to my villa now. I have matters to attend to there,” Scribonia said.

  Claudia followed her to the door. “Shall Hotep guide you?”

  Scribonia raised her eyebrows. “I knew the way around the palace before she was born, child. I can find my own way out.”

  Claudia put a hand on her arm. “Grandmother?”

  “Yes?”

  “She liked to . . . laugh, didn’t she?”

  Her grandmother covered Claudia’s hand with her own. “Yes, your mother liked to laugh.” Then she turned and hurried down the hall.

  Claudia watched her go and put a hand on her heart, as if by pressing very hard, she could stop the ache inside.

  12

  It was a beautiful day, and after returning from the baths with Livia, Claudia hurried to change her clothing for the outing in the marketplace. She could hardly contain her excitement.

  As she and her handmaid neared the entrance to the palace, the large Nubian, who had taken possession of her dog when she arrived, stepped out from an alcove where he had obviously been waiting, along with Milo. The Nubian, Horatio, could not speak. His tongue had been cut out years before. Milo motioned him to accompany them and the women followed.

  At the bottom of the hill, Milo turned onto the Via Sacra, the main thoroughfare in Rome. The streets seemed to radiate from the Forum like spokes on a wheel. On the Vicus iugarius were the stalls of the spice merchants, filling the air with the fragrances of cinnamon, cumin, mint¸ dry mustard, and peppers from the Orient. On the argiletum, they browsed in bookshops, and Claudia looked longingly at the shops of the shoe merchants.

  To the south of the Forum, Milo led them to the velabrum, the general market, and then the forum boariumi and the forum cuppedinis, the markets for luxury goods. Stalls seemed to overflow with silk fabrics and purple cloth from the dye merchants of P
hilippi.

  “If you wish to purchase fabric, I am authorized to allow you to choose, Dominilla.”

  Claudia’s eyes widened. She and Hotep examined several rolls of cloth, and finally she chose a soft, finely woven cloth of deep violet with gold filament woven along the border. The merchant, delighted with his sale, quickly wrapped it up for them in a linen cloth. Milo gave the package to the Nubian to carry and paid the merchant after a lively haggle over the price.

  Carts were everywhere and Claudia turned to the steward. “Where does this all come from?”

  “The carts bring goods to the markets from the barges that come up the Tiber from Ostia, our port city. The emperor is building a forum there and also a new harbor.”

  Claudia nodded. Perhaps one day she would see Ostia.

  There were such exciting things to see and she wanted to see everything at once.

  As they walked, Claudia stopped to watch stonemasons working on a new building. It fascinated her to see how carefully they positioned the huge marble stones with hardly a space between them.

  Milo patiently kept up with them, but soon Claudia realized that he was tiring and it was late afternoon. Milo bought them some sweetbreads to tide them over until they reached the palace. She could hardly wait to go again.

  At the baths the next morning there was subdued gossip. Each woman seemed to be looking over her shoulder to see who was listening. Statues of Sejanus were being put up around the city along with those of Tiberius, and the senators’ wives were uneasy. Their husbands walked a fine line between loyalty to the emperor and staying in the good graces of the prefect. It was dangerous to one’s health to criticize Sejanus. His tentacles reached as far as those of Tiberius, and as long as the emperor called him “My Sejanus,” it was necessary to curry his favor. It would appear Tiberius was grooming Sejanus for something. Adding to the tension was talk of the census.

  On the way back from the baths, Claudia asked the empress about the census.

  Livia sighed. “The outcome of the census could change their status. Every male Roman citizen must register not only himself but his entire family, slaves, and his wealth. If he omits any of it or does not give a correct accounting, all he has can be confiscated and he himself can be sold into slavery.”

  Claudia’s eyes widened. “How does the census change one’s status?”

  The empress looked around to see if anyone was listening. “The censors can look into a man’s private life and decide whether he moves up or down on the social ladder.”

  “His private life?”

  Livia waved a hand impatiently. “Has he turned a blind eye to his wife’s adulteries, committed perjury, not fathered any children, or failed to cultivate his land properly.”

  Claudia frowned. “And do they look at the adulteries of the man?”

  Livia stopped and gave Claudia a stern look. “You are an outspoken young woman for your age—as was your mother.”

  At the mention of her mother, Claudia stiffened, remembering what her mother told her of growing up under her stepmother’s hand. She bit her tongue. She was not foolish enough to alienate the empress.

  When Claudia returned to her room, she was greeted by silence. Felix’s bed was empty.

  They called and searched the rooms but the little dog was gone. Claudia felt panic rise. “Let us go to the kitchen and see if the servants have seen him.”

  The cook looked at their anxious faces and began to wring her hands. “It was the prefect, my lady. He brought the dog here and told Milo to get rid of it.”

  Claudia, nearly shaking with anger, took a step toward the cook. “What has he done with my dog?”

  Other servants entered the kitchen, their faces pale. The cook looked around and finally, her eyes filled with fear, said, “My lady, Milo could not bring himself to hurt Felix. He disobeyed the prefect and took him to his son. He has a young granddaughter. The little dog will have a good home. Please, my lady, if the prefect finds Milo didn’t obey him, we will all be punished.”

  Claudia bowed her head. If she had a sword at that moment she would have run the prefect through. She gathered herself together. These good people had taken a great chance and she must acknowledge that.

  “In the midst of a terrible injustice you have done me a great kindness. I won’t put you in jeopardy. It shall comfort me that his life was spared. I shall remember you with gratitude.”

  The relief in the room was palpable.

  Hotep put an arm around her mistress and led her back to her room where Claudia collapsed in frustration and tears. She hated the palace, hated Tiberius, but most of all, she hated Sejanus.

  On her fourteenth birthday, Claudia fought down the despair that threatened to engulf her. Her mother was dead and her precious Felix had been stolen away from her. She stared out the window, wishing there were some way she could leave this place of sorrow and go far away.

  The empress kept Claudia’s mind busy with practice on her lute, writing poetry in Latin, and instructing her on how to handle servants. Claudia went faithfully to the baths with Livia each morning, but day after day she faced loneliness. She had been able to lavish affection on her dog, who loved her in return, but now she was lonely. Tiberius was her guardian, but she had little contact with him. She didn’t mind, for she had no feelings for him as a parent. She missed her grandmother and thought often of her mother. Julia had entertained them with her sense of humor and wit many times at the evening meal. And she had shown Claudia affection. Hotep was company, and nearer her age, but she was not family. The people she grew up with were her family, including Cato and Medina.

  It was a beautiful spring day and Claudia sat on a stone bench, listening to the birds calling to one another. She looked up as Hotep approached.

  “You are sad, Dominilla?” Hotep’s large dark eyes were filled with sympathy.

  “I miss my home and family.” Claudia spoke almost in a whisper. “Everything I loved is gone. Why did he have to get rid of my dog?”

  Hotep sat down on the bench next to her. “You crossed the prefect, Dominilla. He would not let that go unpunished.” She put a gentle hand on Claudia’s arm. “Perhaps your grandmother will be able to come for your birthday.”

  “I don’t know. I’ve no word from her. She has come so seldom this last year.”

  They returned to the room and waited for a slave from the kitchen to bring their lunch. Most meals were eaten in her room, but at least she had Hotep for company.

  The empress was indisposed again and Claudia felt restless. Perhaps Milo would make arrangements for them to go into the city again. Surely she could buy something on her special day. As the morning drew on, there was a knock on the door and Hotep, expecting their noon meal, hurried to open the door. Claudia’s grandmother stood in the corridor.

  Claudia sprang from her chair and rushed to the door with tears of joy. “You remembered. Oh Grandmother, you remembered my birthday.” Knowing her grandmother’s reserve, she stopped and stood smiling. “It is so good to see you.”

  “I wouldn’t miss your birthday, child. As a matter of fact, I have a surprise for you.”

  Two other women appeared and Claudia found herself staring into a familiar face—Medina. She threw herself into the arms of her old nurse. “Oh Medina, you’re here.”

  Finally Claudia stepped back and allowed the two older women and the servant from the kitchen to enter her quarters. The servant put the lunch tray on the table and bowed herself out, closing the door behind her.

  The cheese was fresh and they dipped their chunks of bread in a relish made from olives, vinegar, coriander seeds, cumin, fennel, and mint. Claudia savored every bite. She smiled at Medina, remembering when they made the relish together.

  “How did you get here?”

  Scribonia interrupted. “Tiberius arranged for her to travel with a senator and his wife returning to Rome.”

  Medina turned to Claudia. “I rode in a coach, Dominilla, as you did.”

  “I’
m sure Grandmother is glad to have you back, aren’t you?”

  Scribonia huffed. “Of course—I sent for her, didn’t I?”

  Claudia suppressed a smile. “How are you feeling, Grandmother?”

  “I am feeling my age. Too many aches and pains, but I am not ready for the gods to call me yet.”

  Her grandmother’s candidness was one of the things she loved about her.

  Her grandmother eyed her sternly. “How are you getting along with Livia?”

  “The empress is kind to me.”

  Scribonia nodded. “She has done many good things for the poor of Rome. They speak well of her.”

  The compliment seemed grudgingly given, but Claudia only nodded.

  When they had finished their refreshment, Claudia suggested a walk in the extensive garden. They strolled for a while and then sat by the fountain.

  Scribonia looked around. “Where is your small dog?”

  Claudia hesitated and looked past her grandmother to Hotep. How much did she dare say? “He, uh, became ill, Grandmother. I lost him.” Well, part of it was the truth.

  “I’m sorry, child. I know he meant a great deal to you.”

  “Yes.” She didn’t want to dwell on Felix.

  Scribonia seemed restless, and as the shadows began to creep up the walls of the garden, she rose to go home. Claudia put her hand out and Scribonia covered it between her own. Then Claudia embraced Medina a last time. It had been a wonderful birthday present.

  After they had gone, Claudia found herself thinking of Medina and was reminded of her mother. She opened the small chest with her special treasures, fingering the ring her mother had given her. Her grandmother said it belonged to the man who was her father, but since it appeared that all of her mother’s suitors were dead, the question of who he was would remain forever unanswered. She sat looking at the silver ring, turning it this way and that in the light as the emerald stones sparkled. Finally, she put it back in the chest. It was as close as she would ever be to the shadowy figure in her mind of the man who was her father.