The Last King of Rome

by Laura Dowers

  It took him a minute to collect himself. When his breath had returned to normal, Servius opened the door with a trembling hand. The birthing chair stood in the middle of the room. There were bloodied towels in a heap beneath it. He looked away and to the bed. Tarquinia was climbing gingerly into it, wincing as she settled. Nipia fussed around her, trying to make her more comfortable. Tarquinia leant into the pillows and closed her eyes, excessively weary. She had not even noticed Servius. Neither had Tanaquil, who was on the other side of the bed. She put a leather cord around her daughter’s neck and Servius saw a small figure of Juno bob against Tarquinia’s swollen breasts. Protection for the mother, he thought grimly, all too aware that Tarquinia, having survived the birth, was not out of danger yet. Many women died in the days after childbirth from fever.

  Tanaquil straightened and turned. She saw Servius and gave him a rueful smile.

  ‘Tarquinia’s asleep already. Come and greet your daughter.’

  Servius’s mind registered Tanaquil’s last word and he felt the smallest sinking feeling of dismay. A daughter, not a son. After all this time, after all the believing Tarquinia barren and then the joy of her pregnancy, to not have a son to carry on his line was like he had been punched in the stomach. He felt winded.

  Tanaquil waved him over to the woven willow basket behind him where a small body squirmed. Servius looked down into the basket and rested his gaze on his new daughter. Any disappointment he had felt disappeared on the instant. This little creature was his, made from him, a part of him. The pink face was all screwed up and wrinkly, but it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. It didn’t matter that she was a girl. She was whole, she was healthy, and she was his.

  Tarquinia had the house all to herself and was glad of it. Servius was in the city on business and Tanaquil had declared she really couldn’t stand another sultry Roman summer and had travelled to the coast with a friend to spend a month or two by the sea. For once, Tarquinia could be alone with her daughter, her Tullia. She loved her mother dearly, but she would interfere, telling her how the baby should be held, when she should be washed, how she should be fed… On and on went the list of things that, according to her mother, she was doing wrong. And yet, the baby thrived.

  Tarquinia gazed down at the child in her arms, at the little mouth puckered around her nipple. How she loved this small bundle of flesh, more than she loved anything, even Servius. What a pity this little thing would grow up. If only her daughter could stay this small and needy.

  Her pleasant solitude was not to last. Tarquinia had moved from the garden to the atrium, it being the coolest place in the house. She had not been there long when the front doors opened and her young nephews entered with their nurse.

  ‘Why are you sitting here, Aunt?’ Lucius asked, coming up to Tarquinia.

  ‘It’s too hot anywhere else,’ Tarquinia said, drawing a fold of her dress over Tullia’s head and covering her breast. She knew Lucius was only a boy, but she didn’t want him to see her naked breast.

  Arruns moved to stand beside his brother. ‘Can I see?’ he asked.

  ‘Later,’ Tarquinia assured him. Had he been on his own, she would have shown Arruns the baby, but not with Lucius looking on. ‘She’s feeding at the moment and then she will need to sleep. You can see her when she wakes up.’

  ‘She can play with us then,’ Arruns said.

  ‘She’s too young for that,’ Tarquinia laughed. ‘When she’s older, you will play together.’

  ‘We don’t want a girl playing with us,’ Lucius said to his brother.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She’ll spoil everything. Girls always do.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Arruns said glumly.

  ‘Well,’ Tarquinia took hold of Arruns’s hand and drew him towards her, angry at the way Lucius always forced his opinions on his brother, ‘if Lucius doesn’t want to play with Tullia when she’s older, then you can play with her all by yourself, Arruns.’

  ‘I’ll only play with her if Lucius will,’ Arruns said, pulling his hand away.

  Tarquinia met Lucius’s eyes and saw smug satisfaction in them. ‘You should go to your lessons,’ she said, wanting Lucius gone, and gestured to the nurse to take the boys away.

  ‘‘bye Tullia,’ Arruns waved as he was led away. Lucius gave the bulge beneath her dress a contemptuous look before following.

  If only Lucius could be sent away, Tarquinia thought as she watched the boys go, then I could be truly happy.

  Cutu Taphu handed Lucius the wooden sword and told the boy to stand ready, pointing a warning finger at him not to start until Cutu said so. Lucius was always so eager to fight.

  Cutu took a few steps back to make room for the boys and then called, ‘Begin.’ Lucius charged at Arruns, who held his sword awkwardly with both hands, pointing it feebly at his brother who swiped it aside easily. Cutu shook his bald head, disgusted by Arruns’s ineptitude with the sword. That boy would never make a decent soldier, no matter how much training Cutu gave him.

  ‘Lift your head up,’ he bellowed at Arruns who was trying to make himself small before Lucius’s onslaught.

  Arruns obeyed and promptly received a blow from Lucius’s sword to his mouth that ripped open the delicate skin of his lip. Arruns backed away, his sword arm at his side while his other hand tentatively pressed two fingers to his bleeding lip and inspected the evidence of the damage.

  ‘Come on,’ Lucius demanded, his brother’s blood fuelling his desire to inflict another such blow.

  But Arruns’s face was screwing up and turning red. Lucius straightened and let out a puff of air. ‘He’s blubbing again, Cutu. Tell him to stop.’

  ‘Boy,’ Cutu said, ‘stop that and be ready.’

  But Arruns wasn’t listening. He dropped his sword on the ground where it puffed up dust and buried his face in his hands, his sobs getting louder and longer. Lucius appealed to Cutu again, but Cutu had no patience left. He walked off to sit in the shade of an awning at the back of the domus.

  ‘You’ve ruined everything,’ Lucius screamed at Arruns, who raised his blotchy and crumpled face to his brother, still crying. Lucius strode towards him and began slapping Arruns’s sweaty head. Arruns brought his arms up over his head and curled himself up in a ball, lying on his side where Lucius started to kick him.

  Cutu watched the two boys in amusement. That Lucius, he was a one all right, had a right temper on him. Arruns was a cry-baby, always had been. A slave girl, a spoil of the war with Veii, offered Cutu a cup of water and he took it without a word, gulping it down. She stood by him, watching Lucius hitting Arruns, and he saw how much it upset her. Women, he thought, they always wanted to mother something.

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ he said to her, gesturing at Arruns. ‘He needs to learn to stop whimpering every time he gets hurt.’

  The girl wasn’t convinced. ‘He is only a boy,’ she said, wincing when Arruns let out a high-pitched scream as Lucius’s foot made contact with his groin.

  ‘He’ll be a man soon enough,’ Cutu shrugged. ‘Crying won’t do him any good then.’

  The girl cast one more look at the boys, then returned to her work. Cutu shifted his backside on the bench and leant his head against the wall, watching the boys through half-open eyes. A minute later, at the periphery of his vision, he saw a dart of red emerge from the doorway and knew what it meant. Tarquinia had heard the fight.

  ‘Stop that,’ Tarquinia screamed, flapping her arms as she ran towards the two boys. ‘Stop it. Get away from him. Leave him alone.’

  Lucius didn’t stop. Tarquinia grabbed Lucius by his arms and pulled him backwards. He fell against her legs, almost knocking her off balance. Arruns was still curled up, having resolved to accept the blows rather than try to escape them. Furious at being prevented from hurting his brother, Lucius turned on Tarquinia, kicking at her, but she held his wrists above his head at arm’s length and his little legs couldn’t reach her. He tried instead to pull out of her grip.

 
‘Let go of me,’ he said, tugging with all his strength.

  ‘You stop this,’ Tarquinia insisted. ‘Stop it now.’

  Lucius stopped and let his arms go limp. He looked up at her, his face full of hate.

  She studied the small, oval face, so like his father’s had been at his age, she remembered. Lucius was so like his father, petulant, spoilt, quick to temper. ‘You little monster,’ she hissed.

  Lucius spat and Tarquinia blinked in surprise as she felt the gobbet of spittle slither down the side of her nose. Shocked and disgusted, she slapped him hard across the face.

  ‘TARQUINIA!’

  Tanaquil was striding towards them. Lucius held a hand to his flaming cheek and stared at his grandmother.

  ‘Did you see what he did?’ Tarquinia screeched at her mother.

  Tanaquil took a cloth tucked into the neck of her dress and handed it to her daughter. ‘Wipe your face.’

  Tarquinia snatched the cloth and scrubbed her nose and cheek. ‘He’s a little shit.’

  ‘I’ll deal with this, Tarquinia. Why don’t you go inside and lie down?’

  ‘You are going to punish him, aren’t you, Mother?’ Tarquinia demanded.

  ‘I’ll deal with him,’ Tanaquil said, putting a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and gently pushing her towards the doorway. Tarquinia shot Lucius one last dark look then disappeared into the domus.

  Tanaquil looked down at her grandson. ‘Why do you do it, Lucius?’

  ‘She hurt me,’ Lucius said, thrusting out his arms to show where Tarquinia had grabbed him. Tanaquil glanced down at his wrists. The skin was red, not bruised.

  ‘She is your aunt, Lucius,’ Tanaquil reminded him. ‘She can do as she likes with you.’

  ‘No, she can’t, I won’t let her.’

  Arruns, sensing it was safe to move, unfurled himself and clambered to his feet. He looked reproachfully at his brother. ‘You didn’t have to do that,’ he sniffed, rubbing himself to ease the pain. He had to rub himself all over, for Lucius had spared no part of him.

  ‘Lucius, apologise to your brother,’ Tanaquil said.

  ‘Won’t,’ Lucius pouted.

  ‘You will.’

  ‘I won’t.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter, Grandmother,’ Arruns said.

  ‘It does matter, and Lucius will say he’s sorry,’ Tanaquil said, her hands on her hips. She grabbed Lucius’s shoulder and pulled him around so he was standing in front of Arruns. ‘Apologise.’ She saw the full red lips pucker and knew he was thinking whether it would be easier to get it over with or continue to stand firm. In the end, the increasing pressure of her fingers digging into his flesh convinced him.

  ‘Sorry,’ he mumbled, staring down at his feet.

  ‘It’s all right,’ Arruns said, and Tanaquil wished he wouldn’t forgive so readily. And it was most certainly not all right. Even now, she could see where the red marks on Arruns’s face and arms would soon turn into bruises, and there were many of them. Lucius was a little brute and no mistake.

  ‘Arruns,’ she said, ‘go inside and clean yourself up. Have Nipia see to your cuts. I will come and see you later.’

  Arruns nodded and, limping slightly, went into the domus. Lucius was about to follow when Tanaquil said, ‘Not just yet, Lucius. You need to explain yourself.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why did you attack your brother like that?’

  ‘He wouldn’t fight me.’

  ‘So you hit him?’

  Lucius shrugged. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Why would you want to hit him?’

  ‘He ruined it all. I was winning.’

  ‘Your arms training is not a competition,’ she said. ‘You do it to learn how to fight, not so you can beat your brother.’

  ‘There’s no point to it if we don’t try to win,’ he said, and Tanaquil felt she could not argue with such logic.

  ‘I won’t have you treating your aunt in that way either,’ she said. ‘Spitting at her, indeed. Why do you imagine we will tolerate such behaviour from you?’

  ‘Because one day I’m going to be a king and then you’ll all have to do what I say.’

  Tanaquil was taken aback. She stared down at her grandson, astonished at his words. ‘You’ll be a king, will you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said defiantly.

  ‘You may and you may not,’ she said. ‘And besides, even if you were to become king, that is a long way off. You will be much older than you are now.’

  ‘So what? I will be king and then you won’t be able to order me about.’

  ‘Lucius, I won’t be here.’

  Lucius frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I will be dead.’

  The frown remained on Lucius’s face as he studied hers. ‘How old are you now, Grandmother?’ he asked.

  ‘That is none of your business.’

  ‘I suppose you will be dead by the time I’m old,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘But Arruns won’t, nor will Aunt Tarquinia. She’ll just be old like you are now.’

  ‘But Aunt Tarquinia may have a son,’ Tanaquil said, ‘who may become king before you. Have you thought of that, Lucius?’

  It was obvious he hadn’t. His face clouded. ‘But I was here first.’

  ‘It doesn’t work that way,’ she said, pleased to have thrown his composure off a little. ‘In Rome, kings are elected. They don’t inherit.’

  ‘Uncle Servius became king,’ Lucius said, thinking hard. ‘And I’ve heard him say he wasn’t elected.’

  ‘The circumstances were very different when he became king. Exceptional. They won’t occur again.’ That awful time when she had lost Lucomo felt so long ago. Had it really only been five years? ‘And now, enough of this. Go indoors and have a wash, then get to your lessons. You will have no food for the rest of the day.’

  Lucius stamped his foot and it amused her to see his childish impotence. He was still a child, she reminded herself, despite his ambition. She watched him go, then looked around the stable yard and settled her gaze on Cutu. She ambled over to the awning.

  Cutu saw her coming and got to his feet. ‘My lady.’

  ‘Why did you let my grandson behave like that, Cutu?’

  ‘He was just doing what boys do, my lady,’ Cutu shrugged. ‘There’s no real harm done.’

  ‘He could have seriously injured his brother.’

  ‘A few kicks and punches, my lady, that was all.’

  ‘I am not so concerned about the fighting but what lies behind it, Cutu,’ Tanaquil said, holding out her hand for a cup of water. It really was so very hot, even in the shade, and she began to wish she hadn’t returned home just yet but stayed at the seaside with her friend. The slave girl gave her a cup and she took a few delicate sips. ‘My grandson Lucius has a very strong temper when he doesn’t get his own way. It is not good for him to be indulged in it. It’s not good for anyone else, either,’ she added grimly.

  ‘He’ll make a good soldier,’ Cutu said defensively.

  ‘But an undisciplined one,’ Tanaquil pointed out. ‘I won’t have it. If he begins to act like that again during your training, I expect you to check him. Do I make myself clear, Cutu?’

  Cutu bit back the response he wanted to make, that no amount of telling off would ever make Lucius a kind and obedient child, and nodded. ‘Yes, my lady.’

  Tarquinia was pacing the room when Tanaquil entered. ‘What punishment did you give him?’ she demanded.

  ‘He’s to have no food for the rest of the day,’ Tanaquil said, taking a seat on a couch.

  ‘No food! Is that all? For what he did, he should be whipped.’

  ‘He’s just a boy, Tarquinia,’ Tanaquil said, smoothing her dress over her knees. ‘He’ll learn to control his temper. I’ve instructed Cutu but disciplining the children is really your job.’

  ‘Mine?’ Tarquinia was indignant.

  ‘Yes, yours. You run the household. Seeing to the children is part of that role.’

  ‘I try to disciplin
e Lucius—’

  ‘By calling him names?’ Tanaquil raised a sceptical eyebrow.

  ‘He is a little monster.’

  ‘Well, what if he is? Do you think insulting him will have any effect? He needs careful handling.’

  ‘I’ll get Servius to handle him. I’ll get him to handle him by having him thrown in the Tiber,’ Tarquinia said sulkily.

  ‘Oh, really, Tarquinia.’

  ‘You make it sound like it’s all my fault he’s a little monster. It isn’t. And I love Arruns and Lucilla.’

  ‘They are all are your brother’s children. Cannot you love Lucius too?’

  Tarquinia fiddled with her belt. ‘I’ve tried, Mother, really, I have, but I can’t. He hates me.’

  ‘I’m sure he doesn’t. He just doesn’t like to be thwarted—’

  ‘And he takes it out on me.’

  ‘You must make him love you. Handle him better.’

  ‘Is it not his place to do as he’s told?’ Tarquinia stared at her mother defiantly. ‘I am the adult, he the child. There should be no need for me to handle him.’

  Tanaquil sighed. Her daughter was right, of course, but Tanaquil just wanted life to be quiet. She didn’t want to have the domus resound with the noise of a child’s tantrum or her daughter’s shrill shouts and cries.

  ‘Maybe we can all try a little harder to get along,’ she suggested. After all, she thought, smiling to herself, Lucius may be king one day.

  PART II

  574 BC–539 BC

  8

  Servius put his hands on his hips and surveyed the scene before him. At last, his plan to build Rome a new temple had been realised. The foundations had been dug and the first stones were being laid as he watched. He couldn’t help feeling just a little bit proud.

  ‘It will be magnificent, Servius,’ Tanaquil called from the litter, holding back the embroidered curtain to look out.

  He turned to her, grinning. ‘It will, won’t it?’

  ‘Worthy of the goddess. Diana will be pleased, my boy.’