by Laura Dowers
‘Would that not have pleased you?’ Volumnia asked with a raised eyebrow. ‘Do you know, Mother, I believe you don’t want me to marry Caecilius.’
Aemilia opened her mouth to protest but shut it again, dropping her gaze to her hands fidgeting in her lap.
‘You don’t deny it,’ Volumnia said.
‘I’m not going to bother denying such nonsense,’ Aemilia muttered.
‘Is it nonsense? Father told me you kept asking him to reconsider.’
‘Your father had no business telling you that.’
‘You think I am not good enough for Caecilius.’
‘It is not that, not that at all,’ Aemilia retorted irritably.
‘Then what is it?’
She didn’t want to speak of her worry, didn’t want to let the prophecy intrude into a day that should have been happy. Aemilia decided to lie to her daughter. ‘I just did not think we would see you marry so soon.’
Volumnia gave her the most doubting of looks. She turned back to her dressing table and held up the mirror. As she checked her hair, she said, ‘You are only too glad to be rid of me, Mother, don’t pretend. There, all done.’
Her hair finished, Volumnia stood and shrugged off her woollen dressing gown. She raised her arms above her head so the slave could dress her in the simple white tunic she would wear for the wedding ceremony. Aemilia watched as the slave tied a belt around Volumnia’s waist, then made the knot of Hercules that Caecilius would have to undo before he consummated their marriage. Volumnia slipped her feet into the new slippers Aemilia had dyed with saffron and straightened as the slave floated a flame-coloured veil over her head. A wreath of verbena and sweet marjoram was put on her head to keep the veil in place.
‘I’m ready,’ Volumnia said with a gentle toss of her head that set the wreath wobbling. ‘Let’s get this over with.’
Aemilia followed her daughter out of the cubiculum. ‘You know Caecilius isn’t here and that he’s sent a letter of intent to marry you? I do think he could have made the effort to turn up in person. I know him sending a letter makes it legal, but really.’
‘Don’t fuss, Mother, it doesn’t matter,’ Volumnia said, her long stride causing her mother to take two steps for her one. ‘I shall see him later.’
Aemilia thought she detected the first note of anxiety in her daughter’s last words and guessed Volumnia was not looking forward to her wedding night. Should she have told her what to expect? Aemilia wondered as they entered the atrium where the wedding guests were already assembled. She shrugged the thought away. Volumnia probably knew what was expected of her and would have been scornful of accepting her mother’s advice. After all, she had never asked for advice from her mother before.
Vibinius had returned from the temple where he had witnessed a priest perform the auspices to confirm it was a propitious day for his daughter to be married and was waiting in the atrium. He was very happy; this was a successful day for him, the joining of his family name with one of Rome’s most illustrious patricians, and Aemilia saw that his cheeks and nose were already very red from the wine he was passing freely among the guests.
Volumnia barely granted their guests a smile and took herself off to stand by the altar. Eager to make up for her daughter’s rudeness, Aemilia stepped forward to greet Menenius and his wife, Gabinia.
‘Aemilia, how lovely you look,’ Menenius said, taking her hand and covering it with his own.
Aemilia could almost believe him, but the memory of her mirror was still fresh in her mind and she knew the image had not lied. She smiled and thanked him for the compliment.
The squealing of a piglet diverted their attention. The ceremony was beginning. A hush fell over the guests as the priest laid the piglet down on the altar and slit its throat. Volumnia stepped back hastily to avoid the blood splattering her dress. Aemilia grimaced as the blood dripped off the table onto the stone floor, hoping the slaves would be able to stop it staining and cursing herself for not instructing them to strew the floor with straw. She felt Menenius’s hand on the small of her back.
‘A very special day this,’ he murmured close to her ear.
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘We’re all very happy.’
‘Indeed. Who knows what great Romans shall be born from the union of two such families.’
A shiver ran down Aemilia’s spine at his words. Menenius had spoken the substance of her thoughts, but without the sense of foreboding the Sibyl’s prophecy engendered in her. Was she seeing omens in everything these days? She supposed it was only natural for Menenius to speculate about the children Caecilius and Volumnia would have; that was the purpose of marriage, after all. Or had the gods put those words in his mouth, a reminder their ultimate purpose was still unknown?
Without the bridegroom present, the wedding ceremony came swiftly to an end and Aemilia’s concerns were of no further matter. The deed was done, the seed sown, for Caecilius would have Volumnia in his bed, and if the gods desired it, she would conceive his child tonight.
Would that child, Aemilia wondered as she raised a cup of wine to her lips to toast the couple, be the enemy of Rome the Sibyl’s scroll had prophesied?
Volumnia watched Caecilius as he closed the door of his cubiculum. My cubiculum now, she reminded herself, glancing around the room, noticing that it was not all that different to her own back at home. She smiled to herself. She would have to learn a whole new language now: her and her husband’s cubiculum, her and her husband’s home. It sounded strange in her head. How strange would it sound when she said those words aloud?
‘Why are you smiling?’ Caecilius asked, setting down the oil lamp on a table.
‘I was just thinking how much my life has changed, and in only one day.’
‘For the better, I hope you realise,’ Caecilius said, sitting down on the bed and untying his sandals.
‘Could you not have come yourself to marry me this morning? Would it have been so very tiresome?’
‘I had to be elsewhere,’ he said, standing and shrugging off his toga, letting the heavy woollen cloth pool at his feet. He pulled his tunic over his head.
‘Where did you have to be?’ she asked. ‘Why?’
Caecilius moved towards her and began to untie her belt. ‘Prince Titus wanted to see me. You wouldn’t have me refuse the prince, would you?’
‘Did he know it was your wedding day?’
‘It wouldn’t have mattered if he had known. Titus doesn’t think a prince should have to wait on anyone’s pleasure.’ Knot untied, Caecilius tossed the belt aside.
‘Will he do anything for you?’
‘Such as?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Contracts for new olive oil exports, reduced tariffs on grain imports?’
Caecilius stared at her, his brow furrowing. ‘What goes on in that brain of yours that you talk of imports and exports and tariffs?’
‘I am not my brother, Caecilius,’ Volumnia snapped, her heart starting to beat faster as he opened the clasps on her shoulder and her dress fell away from her body. ‘I am not a woman who only concerns herself with spinning wool and keeping the slaves in line.’
‘Yes, you said so before we married, but that was then. Your parents allowed you such liberties. But you’re my wife now and I will not be so lenient. Wool spinning and keeping the slaves in line is your duty, Volumnia. You will not concern yourself with my business affairs.’
The rebuke stung, but she knew now was not the time to argue. ‘Must we do this tonight?’ she said with a sigh. ‘I am very tired.’
‘Get on the bed,’ he said in answer.
Resignedly, Volumnia moved to the bed and slid her subligaculum over her hips to fall to the floor. She lay down on the bed and spread her legs in readiness. Caecilius climbed on top of her, his chest hair tickling her nipples. It felt strange having his weight upon her, his breath hot and moist on her neck. She held her breath as he pushed into her. It hurt, and she turned her head away from his, biting her bottom lip to stifle her c
ry. Caecilius was not gentle, but she had neither expected nor wanted him to be. She closed her eyes while he grunted and thrust until he gave a moan and held himself still. A moment later, he rolled off her, and she reached for the blanket and wiped herself. Caecilius laughed lazily.
‘What’s funny?’ she asked sharply.
‘I was just thinking of Menenius and how he envies me this.’ He turned on his side to face her. ‘He wants you, you know. I’ve seen it in his face.’
‘And you don’t mind?’
‘Why should I mind? You belong to me.’
‘But I might encourage him?’
Caecilius teased a strand of her hair away from her forehead. ‘Might you?’ he said, a smile playing upon his lips. ‘Yes, I suppose you might. But you would risk a great deal if you did. I would kill you, my dear, if you ever betrayed me.’
‘You would?’
‘Yes, I would.’
She held his gaze for a long moment, determining if he meant what he said. He did, she realised. ‘You will never have cause to mistrust me,’ she said and gestured at their bodies. ‘I don’t like this and will certainly not seek it out. In fact, I hope you won’t be bothering me too often in this way.’
Caecilius turned over onto his back and closed his eyes. ‘All I want from you are sons, Volumnia. Give me those and I will take my pleasure from our slaves.’
Satisfied, Volumnia pulled the sheet up to her chin. It had been a long day and she fell asleep soon after Caecilius began snoring in her ear.
4
Kaeso ran into the kitchen where Aemilia was keeping an eye on the new slave as he prepared the afternoon meal. Only the previous month the household had been laid low with food poisoning, the result, Aemilia had no doubt, of a kitchen slave who did not wash his hands after visiting the latrine, and she wasn’t taking any chances. The slaves would keep themselves clean or they would be sold on.
‘Mother,’ Kaeso said, panting, ‘Volumnia is here.’
Aemilia turned with an exclamation of annoyance. ‘We’re not expecting her today, are we?’
Kaeso shrugged and moved to the table. He dipped a finger into the garum sauce and brought it to his lips.
‘Don’t do that, dear,’ Aemilia said absently. She cast another look at the slave. ‘Remember what I’ve said,’ she told him and took hold of Kaeso’s hand. He allowed himself to be pulled along behind her to the triclinium where Volumnia waited. ‘Volumnia,’ Aemilia greeted her daughter with a forced delight. ‘You didn’t send word you would be calling today.’
‘Do I need to?’ Volumnia’s voice was sharp and Aemilia saw her give a look of irritation at Kaeso.
‘No, of course you don’t,’ Aemilia said. ‘We enjoy seeing you, don’t we, Kaeso?’
Kaeso nodded, and the vigorous movement caused a line of spittle to leak from the corner of his mouth. It dropped onto his chest and soiled his clothing.
‘Ugh,’ Volumnia cried. ‘Must he do that?’
Aemilia snatched up the hem of her dress and wiped his mouth. ‘He can’t help it, as well you know.’ A lump formed in her throat as Kaeso looked from her to Volumnia, not understanding how he had offended his sister. ‘Kaeso, why don’t you go and play with the dogs?’
Kaeso liked this idea and hurried clumsily away.
‘I wish you would not be so unkind to your brother.’
‘Oh, don’t start,’ Volumnia said, settling herself onto one of the couches. She pointed to a small cage hanging from the ceiling. In it, a sparrow sat on a crossbar. ‘That’s new, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, it had fallen out of its nest. Your father thought I would like to look after it.’
‘Oh, really, isn’t Kaeso pet enough?’ Volumnia laughed at her own joke and looked around. ‘Is Father not here?’
‘No, he had business in the forum.’ Aemilia sat down and frowned. ‘Is something wrong, Volumnia?’
Volumnia started. ‘Why do you ask that?’
‘You seem a little... I don’t know, fed up.’
‘Oh...,’ Volumnia shrugged, ‘it’s nothing.’
‘Is it Caecilius?’ Aemilia pressed. ‘Is he not treating you well?’
‘It’s not Caecilius, Mother. For one thing, I hardly see him. He’s always with the prince.’
‘And you are well?’ Aemilia nodded at Volumnia’s belly. It bulged a little.
‘Yes, I’m fine. Well, if you can call being fat fine.’
‘There’s nothing of you yet. And I rather liked being pregnant,’ Aemilia said, smiling at the memory of her first pregnancy. Not, she thought with a glance at Volumnia, her second.
‘You would,’ Volumnia snorted. She looked sideways at her mother. ‘I have it again, you know. That feeling you are displeased at my situation.’
‘What do you mean, Volumnia?’
‘You’re not pleased I’m going to have a baby.’
‘I’ve never said so.’
‘You haven’t had to say so, it’s obvious. But it’s strange. I thought you would be pleased.’
‘I am pleased,’ Aemilia protested feebly.
‘You’re nothing of the sort. Will you tell me why?’
Aemilia considered a moment, tugging on her earlobe painfully. ‘There is something I’ve never told you, Volumnia,’ she said at last. ‘Something I’ve never told anyone.’
Volumnia sat up straight, intrigued. ‘What?’
‘Just before I married your father, a prophecy came into my hands, never mind how. My brother’s tutor, Galerius, read it and told me he thought the prophecy was to do with the family, that is, your father’s family.’
‘How exciting.’
‘It wasn’t exciting. It was frightening. Galerius said I shouldn’t marry your father because the prophecy said a child of the winged serpent would bring woe to Rome, the winged serpent being the Sidonius family emblem. But I was determined to marry. The prophecy didn’t specify which generation of the family the child would be born to. I thought — hoped — it meant another woman, not me.’ She sighed. ‘When I became pregnant with Kaeso, I was worried, but then he was born and it was obvious he would never hurt anyone. Then I had you.’ She looked meaningfully at Volumnia.
‘You think I am the child the prophecy meant?’ Volumnia asked, her eyes wide and incredulous.
‘No, you were a girl, you could harm no one. But,’ Aemilia pointed at Volumnia’s belly, ‘the child in your womb might.’
Volumnia rubbed her hand over her swollen belly. Her expression hardened. ‘That’s ridiculous. I would never have a child that would harm Rome. And besides,’ she said as a thought occurred, ‘my child will be a Marcius, not a Sidonius.’
‘But with Sidonius blood.’
Volumnia tutted. ‘Do you still have this prophecy?’
‘Yes, I still have it, but it is written in Greek, you would not be able to read it.’
‘Where did it come from?’
‘From the Sibyl at Cumae. She came to Rome to see King Lucius, so the rumours went. I saw her put three scrolls into one of the forum’s braziers. I saved one of them from the flames.’
‘Let me have the scroll. I will find someone to translate it properly.’
Aemilia shook her head. ‘No, I don’t think that’s a good idea.’
‘Mother!’
‘No. I’ve told you more than I should. I sometimes think it would be better if the gods left us alone to get on with our lives. Volumnia, forget everything I’ve said, please.’ She looked earnestly at Volumnia. ‘You will, won’t you?’
Volumnia’s eyes narrowed at her mother. Then her expression brightened, and she leant back on the couch with a protracted sigh. ‘Yes, if you wish it,’ she said. ‘I expect it is all nonsense, anyway. Not worth thinking about.’
Does she really mean that? Aemilia wondered as Kaeso came lumbering in, carrying one of the dogs in his arms. Laughing, he tried to put it in his sister’s lap. As Aemilia gently pulled Kaeso away from her scowling daughter, she thought it was so unlike Volumni
a to capitulate so quickly to her wishes that she doubted if her daughter thought the prophecy nonsense at all.
She was being reckless, she knew. To leave Rome with only a slave for protection, a young woman of not yet seventeen, was reckless. But she had to find out more about the prophecy her mother had spoken of. If it truly was about her, then she had to know what was in store for her and her child.
Volumnia had prepared well. She had chosen the largest slave in their household to accompany her, ordered him to be silent about his mission, and told him to furnish himself with one of his master’s swords and enough food to feed them both on the journey, there and back. She had waited until Caecilius was away from home, off on one of his month-long jaunts with Prince Titus. She knew he would have stopped her had he known what she intended, not out of any concern for her, but for the child she carried.
It was early, still dark, when Volumnia and the slave set out for Ostia, the coastal port that would provide her with a boat to sail to Cumae. She had dressed in her dullest clothing, an unattractive brown dress that would not show off her true patrician status. This dress she had covered with a cloak taken from one of her other slaves, a threadbare thing that smelt of grease and sweat and failed entirely to keep her warm.
It was thrilling to be embarking on an adventure. And adventure it was, for it was no small matter to travel to Cumae, where the Sibyl was to be found. It was dangerous enough for a woman to travel alone — a slave could not be considered company — but for a Roman woman to travel alone past enemy territory was potentially fatal.
Volumnia and the slave reached Ostia by the late afternoon, not having stopped at all on the way from Rome. She ordered the slave to find a boatman willing to take them along the coast and waited while a price was negotiated. When the slave reported back, Volumnia winced. The sum demanded was high and would reduce her allowance significantly, but it could not be helped. The price paid, half up front, the other half promised on the return, Volumnia climbed into the boat and settled herself beneath the wooden shelter at the stern. Very weary, she fell asleep to the soothing sound of the water.
