The Blood of Caesar, page 24
part #2 of Pliny the Younger Series
I was back in a corner of the library when I heard someone enter. I thought it was Phineas, but one of Mother’s slave girls found me and said, “My lord, your mother would like to speak with you. She’s in the garden, at the back.”
That made me suspicious. The back of the garden is the most secluded place in the house. It’s where I would ask to talk to someone if I wanted to be certain the conversation would not be overheard. What could my mother have to say that would require that much privacy? Had she heard already about my paying for Monica’s tomb? I had resolved just to do it and not tell her about it.
She was sitting under the trellis shadowing my uncle’s bust, with Nelia beside her. She patted the cool stone bench on the other side of her but I remained standing.
“I’m sorry to interrupt your work, dear,” she began, “but I think we need to talk.”
I sighed heavily and rolled my eyes. “About what?”
“That’s a very petulant sigh, Gaius. I’ve heard that a lot since you returned from Syria.”
“I’m busy right now, Mother. Please say what you have to say.”
“There’s no need for you to be rude, dear. I just want to talk about Nelia.”
I looked at Nelia, who kept her eyes down as modestly as a Vestal Virgin, then back at my mother. “I have nothing more to say about, or to, the lady Cornelia. She is welcome to stay here, because of my promise to Musonius, but she need have no further dealings with me.”
As I turned away my mother said, “Gaius, you come back here!”
I was determined not to give in to her until I heard Nelia say, “It’s all right, Mother Plinia. We can’t expect him to listen to what I have to say.”
Mother Plinia! By the gods, where would this end? She was ensconced in one of the nicest rooms in my house and had rearranged the furniture to suit herself. She was already ordering my servants around as though they were hers. I could overlook such rudeness in a guest, but I would not let her steal my mother from me.
I stopped and turned back to see Nelia slip her arm through my mother’s. Mother patted her hand and smiled.
“What do have to say to me?” I asked, clenching my fists as my anger rose.
“You treated Nelia shamefully yesterday,” Mother said, “throwing Marcianus out of the house like that.”
“I was only trying to honor my obligation to Musonius.”
“There’s that petulant tone again, dear.”
“Mother, what do want from me?”
“I want you to apologize to Nelia. She is our guest and you—”
“Apologize? I’ll do no such thing. I have nothing to apologize for.”
“Then,” Nelia said softly, “will you let me apologize to you?”
I blinked like a mule that’s been whacked to get his attention. When I recovered from the shock, I asked, “For what? For everything or for one particular thing?”
“You’re right, Gaius Pliny.” She nodded slowly, as though yielding to my superior wisdom. “There are several things I should apologize for. Your hand, for instance. Is it healing?”
I glanced at my palm, which was still sore. “It’s been tended to.”
“I’m glad. Perhaps I can cover everything by saying I’m sorry for acting like such a foolish little country girl the last few days. I hope you can understand that I’ve experienced so much that’s new and different since I left Musonius’ villa, things I could never have imagined. It’s been hard for me to make sense of it all.”
“You’ve been to strange and different places, dear,” Mother said to me. “And you went there willingly, not because someone suddenly decided to send you away from the only home you’d ever known. Surely you can sympathize.”
If I could get as much emotion into my voice as my mother just did, I would win every case I tried in court. “All right. I accept your apology. Is that all you wanted?”
“Now, just a moment,” Mother said. “We want to clear up any possible misunderstandings. Go ahead, dear.” She nudged Nelia.
Nelia looked up at me and I met her eyes for the first time. I could not look away. “Yesterday afternoon,” she began, “I saw Marcianus again—”
“With my permission,” Mother said.
“Yes, with Mother Plinia’s permission. I met him in the Gardens of Maecenas and we spent several hours together.”
“I’m sure you enjoyed that.” Mother didn’t say anything, but her eyes scolded me. Don’t be petulant, dear.
Nelia shook her head. “I did not enjoy it, I’m sorry to say. With all I’ve seen of the world beyond the Via Flaminia now, I felt I was not with the same person I knew a few days ago. I realize that’s because I’m not the same person I was then. I thought I loved Marcianus, but it was just because he was the only boy I’d ever known. Now that I can compare him to other men, I see he’s not the one I want to be with. He hasn’t changed. He wants me to go back to the estate and marry him. I could never be happy there, with him.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“I haven’t yet, but I will.”
“What about your baby?”
She laid a hand on her stomach. “I haven’t told him about that either.”
“You said he was the father. The law says the baby is his, not yours.”
“I realize that. Mother Plinia and I talked about it for a long time last night. I still haven’t decided—”
“My lord!” Dymas called from the other end of the garden. “My lord, it’s urgent. Please come quickly.” He began running toward us.
I couldn’t imagine what my elderly scribe would find so pressing, but I didn’t care, as long as it gave me an excuse to get away from this unwelcome conversation. Nelia’s voice was as alluring as that of the Sirens, whose song drew sailors to their destruction on the rocks. She had obviously seduced my mother. Naomi, I was sure, had fallen under her spell, too. Somebody in the house had to keep a clear head.
Dymas panted as he reached us. “In the ... atrium, my lord. It’s ... Glaucon.”
With Dymas, my mother, and Nelia on my heels I hurried toward the atrium. I could hear the murmur of a crowd, indicating that many of my servants were already there.
In the center of the crowd stood Regulus and several of his servants. That was surprising enough. What stopped me in my tracks was the sight of Glaucon, on his knees next to Regulus, who held a rope tied around Glaucon’s neck, like a triumphant general with his prize captive. My slave’s hands were tied behind his back. His left eye was swollen shut, and blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.
“What is the meaning of this, Marcus Regulus?”
“I should be the one asking that question, Gaius Pliny.”
“Have you beaten my slave? You know you have no right to do that.”
Regulus boomed in his best courtroom voice, “When I find a man coupling with my wife, I have the right to kill him.” He jerked on the rope, and Glaucon staggered forward on his knees.
“With your wife?” I stood over Glaucon, cupped his chin in my hand, and lifted his head. “With Regulus’ wife?”
“I didn’t know ... who she was, my lord,” Glaucon croaked. “I thought she ... was a servant.”
The image of a woman stepping out of the servants’ entrance of Regulus’ house came into my mind. Because of the hooded cloak she was wearing that night, I hadn’t been able to make out her features. The hair sticking out beneath the hood had been blond. I didn’t know Regulus’ wife, Sempronia, except for having seen her a few times. She wasn’t blond, but wigs are easy to come by. Everyone in Rome knew she and Regulus were married in name only. Each of them indulged in whatever activities took their fancy, with whoever took their fancy.
“Is that what she told you, that she was a servant?”
Glaucon nodded and winced at the pain the movement caused him.
I turned to face Regulus. “A man cannot be found at fault when a woman has deliberately deceived him.”
Regulus snorted. “Even at your tender age, Gaius Pliny, you must know enough Roman law to realize a woman cannot be culpable. As Cicero said, ‘Before the law, women are children because of their weakness of mind.’ The only fact that matters here is that your servant was coupling with my wife. I could have killed him on the spot. The law allows me to do it. Because of my regard for you, I have brought him back here, but I demand that you punish him severely.”
“What do you mean by ‘severely’?”
“I don’t think death would be too harsh a penalty.” He paused to let a gasp pass through the crowd of my servants. “My honor would be satisfied, though, if you had him castrated.” He gave a signal to one of his servants, who pushed Glaucon, sending him tumbling face first toward me. Regulus dropped the rope. “I’ll leave him for you to deal with as you see fit. If I ever find him near my house or speaking to anyone in my household, I will kill him.”
As Regulus and his entourage filed out my front door and Dymas rushed to his injured son’s side, I thought to myself, At least now I know Glaucon isn’t spying for Regulus.
* * * *
“So you think he’ll be all right?” I asked Demetrius as we, at long last, settled down to work in the tablinum. The uproar caused by Regulus’ visit had finally subsided to a low hum of conversation among my servants.
My steward nodded. “Dymas says he has only minor injuries. The worst seems to be a broken rib. Glaucon told him he wasn’t tortured, just cuffed around, tied up and held overnight. Three of Regulus’ men apparently followed him and Sempronia when they left the house.”
“What do you think I should do with him?”
“Well, my lord, Marcus Regulus was very insistent and named the punishment he thought would satisfy him.”
“I would never castrate any slave of mine,” I said, to Demetrius’ obvious relief, “especially not to gratify Regulus and his whore of a wife. Glaucon needs some time to recover from his injuries. When he’s on his feet again, I’ll decide what to do with him.”
A sharp knock sounded on the partly opened door and, without waiting for a response, Nelia stepped into the room, carrying a scroll. Demetrius and I stood.
Before I could ask what she wanted, she said, “Sinon.” With that she laid the scroll on the table in front of me and left the room.
Demetrius and I looked after her, open-mouthed, until he said, “’Sinon,’ my lord? Is that what she said?”
“Yes.” I didn’t have to look at the scroll to know it was the second book of Virgil’s Aeneid. The Trojans come out of their walls one morning to find the Greek fleet gone and the great wooden horse standing on the plain before the city. They’re unsure what to make of it until they find a Greek soldier named Sinon, tied up and abused, who tells them the Greeks planned to sacrifice him to insure a safe voyage home, but he escaped. Priam takes pity on him, orders him to be untied and cared for. Sinon then tells a pathetic story which convinces the Trojans to take the horse—with its belly full of Greek soldiers—inside their walls.
That evening the sun set on Priam’s house for the last time.
* * * *
I did not see Nelia or my mother for the rest of the day, although I was aware of a great deal of activity in the women’s part of the house. Mother sent a servant to ask me to use the bath early in the afternoon so she and Naomi could have the time they needed to get Nelia ready for the dinner at Tacitus’ house.
I wished there was some way I could persuade her not to go. There was so much I didn’t know about her, and I would prefer not to expose her to any more people until I had answered some of my questions. Musonius asked me to protect her, not set her out where everyone could see her. Julia and her friends would be spreading gossip about her all over the city by tomorrow morning, I was sure. But Nelia had apologized, so we were back to being polite to one another.
About the tenth hour of the day I was entering the garden, on my way to my room, when I heard the voices of a group of women coming toward me. I stopped to make way for Nelia and her attendants, led by my mother and Naomi, like nymphs flocking around Artemis.
“By the gods!” I muttered.
The woman approaching me was barely recognizable as the girl who’d been dragged into my house three days before. Her hair was done up in what I assumed was the latest style, and she wore make-up, not slapped on with a trowel, as most Roman women do, but applied sparingly in exactly the right places so that all I saw was her exquisite face, not a coat of paint. She wore a light green stola complemented by a necklace and earrings and bracelets of gold and jade, none of which I had ever seen before. One of my clients is a jeweler. I suspected he had been rousted out of his afternoon’s rest to open his shop. My mother’s worry about our finances seemed to have been allayed.
“Good evening, Gaius Pliny,” Nelia said with a slight smile. She gave me the distinct feeling she was welcoming me into her house. Even on Musonius’ estate she would never have been mistaken for a simple country girl. Now she looked regal, like a character in a myth who has been disguised until a divinity reveals her true nature.
“What? Oh, yes,” I stuttered. “Thank you.”
“Are you all right, Gaius?” my mother asked.
There’s nothing like a mother’s voice to douse a man’s amorous feelings. But was that what I had just experienced? “Yes, I’m fine, Mother. What about you, Nelia? Do you feel like going out?” I turned to Naomi. “I thought she was supposed to rest.”
“She should be all right, my lord,” Naomi said. “She’ll be carried in a litter and will be reclining on a couch at dinner. Just don’t let her exert herself too much.”
“And how do you propose I stop her if she does?”
“You won’t have to drag me off a horse or pull me out of a river,” Nelia said, reddening. “Your mother and Naomi have talked some sense into me, and I’ve promised them I will cooperate with you until cousin Gaius returns to Rome.”
“I would appreciate that.” Even though I didn’t entirely believe it. If she did cooperate, it would only be to throw me off guard until she was ready to do whatever she had in mind. But I had to appease my mother. “I assure you, lady Cornelia, you will receive nothing but the most courteous treatment from me and my household. Now, Demetrius probably has the litter waiting in the atrium. I’ll meet you there in a moment.”
I stood aside to let Nelia and her clientela pass. My mother fell out of the pack and stayed by my side as I started for my room.
“She’s such a lovely girl, Gaius.”
“After all the work you and your women put into her, how could she be anything else?”
“Oh, I’m not talking about her looks. I mean her personality. She’s sweet, intelligent, charming.”
I could have added ‘conniving,’ but I thought better of it.
“Did you know she’s the same age—almost to the day—that your sister would have been if she had lived?”
I stopped and turned to face her. The aching welled up in her eyes. So that’s what I was up against. Mother had found her long-lost daughter, the one who died only a few days after her birth. It might even have been her idea to have Nelia call her ‘Mother.’ Naomi, too, as I recalled, had lost a daughter of the same age as my mother’s. That was the beginning of the bond between two grieving mothers. Now they’d found their little girl, and Nelia had found not just one mother, but two to replace the mother she lost when she was a child.
“Mother, please remember, she’ll be here only a short time.” I took a few steps toward my room. “When Musonius returns to Rome, we’ll send her to him.”
“We’ll see about that when the time comes, dear.”
That stopped me in my tracks. “What do you mean, ‘we’ll see about that’?”
“Nelia’s old enough to make up her own mind about what she does and where she goes. But she has no experience of the world.”
“She has enough to be pregnant.”
Mother lowered her eyes. “Yes, there is that. But she’s never been to a dinner like the one she’s going to now. She’s never even ridden in a litter. She grew up ten miles outside of Rome, but she knows no more about life here than if she were from ... India. A girl that naïve needs someone to protect and guide her. We tried this afternoon to give her some idea of what to expect, but you’ll need to be her teacher as well as her escort this evening.”
“Well, silly me. I thought I was going to have a pleasant dinner with a friend.” I put my hands on my hips.
“Gaius, this petulance you’ve been displaying lately is most unbecoming and most uncharacteristic. Since you got back from Syria, something has been different about you.”
How could I begin to explain to her all I had experienced during that year, but especially during those fateful few days in Smyrna on the trip home?
“I will keep a close eye on her, Mother. I promise.” I turned toward my room.
“Thank you, dear. Now, one last thing.”
I must have sighed more loudly than I realized.
“That was a most petulant sigh,” Mother said.
“Everyone is waiting on me,” I said over my shoulder.
“They can wait long enough for me to tell you something important.”
I stopped and half-turned back toward her. “What is it?”
She lowered her voice. “I haven’t had a chance to tell you about ... the knife.”
I felt the blood drain from my face. “‘The knife’? What ... what are you talking about?”
“Gaius, you don’t need to keep your guard up against me. I’m your mother. I’m not going to inform on you. My only concern is whether you’re all right.”
“Yes, Mother. I’m fine. Now, tell me about this knife.”
“Your knife, dear. The one you killed that dreadful man with.”
I sighed, in relief this time, not petulance. “All right. Yes, I admit it. I killed him, but I had to or he would have killed me. Do you have the knife?”
She nodded. “Naomi noticed it on the table in the exhedra that morning the Cohorts came to the house. She was standing with me when we recognized the tunic they were carrying as one of yours—”
