Fourth Entry - The Freedman - A.D. 174

It was only when the door of my apartment closed behind Cornelius Crassus' and Rufa's backs that I truly started to understand what had happened to me and how my life had changed. And I was terrified.

I'd walked all the way from the to the Quirinale in silence, stubbornly ignoring Cornelius Crassus' presence. If the final act at his sister's house had upset him in any way, the quaestor didn't show it. I walked briskly, carrying Rubia in my arms, my chin raised, my eyes fixed in the horizon, the same way I'd done when I'd left behind the military camp in Moesia and the only man I ever loved.
Cornelius Crassus had brought four men to carry my belongings, probably slaves from his brother's house. The ever present praetorians flanked us like a black, living, menacing wall. When we arrived at the building, I was shocked to discover that I'd taken the payment receipt from the banker's office but I'd completely forgotten to ask for the key. Not knowing what to do, I pretended to dig for it in my purse while my mind raced frantically, looking for a way out of the mess and, most of all, a way to avoid the sneer of the men surrounding me. Without a word, Cornelius Crassus produced the key from his cuirass, put it in the hole and opened the door. Then, he moved aside to let me in first. I blushed painfully but still refused to acknowledge both him and his help.

As soon as I crossed the threshold I noticed that the somebody had dusted the apartment and swept the floors. I also saw half a dozen lamps filled and ready, an oil flask and flint to lighten them and even a bowl of fresh fruit on an old table. My first thought was that Aemilius Trebutius Flaccus had decided to take extra precautions to ensure the emperor's good will. But the fact that Cornelius Crassus had picked up the key I'd forgotten to ask for and had obviously kept it with him during the last day cast an embarrassing suspicion. I looked at him briefly and he returned my stare with his most pleasant one. I pursed my lips and walked to the terrace, leaving the slaves to put the chests wherever they wanted to and Rufa to take care of the cat while the praetorians awaited in the corridor.

The terrace was small but lovely and had also been carefully swept. It opened on a beautiful inner garden which despite autumn still had blooming flowers in its neatly trimmed flower beds. The trees also looked well cared for and there was a marble fountain and a small reflecting pool with big, golden fish which darted from one end to the other. But it was the fountain which caught my attention for instead of the usual nymph or satyr that graced most Roman fountains, it's top sported a marble ship. Squinting against the morning sun, I looked at it carefully and marvelled at the detail of the sculpture shinning under the gurgling water which gracefully fell on it. It was obvious that whoever lived that apartment was wealthy. The water fee paid for connecting the house to the closest castellum would be as expensive as those paid at the senatorial houses.

Cornelius Crassus came quietly into the terrace and stood by my side, close to the railing, close enough to let me feel his presence but not so close as to touch me. He remained in silence for a long moment, then talked in his low, cultured voice. "The porters have already carried all your belongings into the apartment, Domina. Now, I'll take your servant girl to the imperial household..."
I turned around to face him. I wanted to say no, that I wanted Rufa to remain with me for a few days more to help me organise the apartment, that I needed time to talk her into accepting the change in a way that would avoid her being troublesome to her new masters. I wanted to make any lame excuse to avoid letting her go... But I said nothing. There was no need. He saw all of this and a lot more I'd never freely admit -- that I was scared, that I didn't want to be left alone -- in my eyes. And I saw in his that, if I told him I'd changed my mind and wanted Rufa to be my slave, it would easily be arranged for Marcus Aurelius had given orders about it just in case I'd ask. But I pursed my lips and refused to speak. Refused to ask. I'd promised myself that I'd never ask for anything anymore and to anyone and I was ready to honor the promise even if it cost me Rufa's company.
Cornelius Crassus looked at me kindly and said "It's better this way." I nodded then whispered, "I need a moment in private with her." It was his turn to nod and I left the terrace in search of Rufa.

I found her in the anteroom. The Numidian girl had set the kitten on an old, moth eaten reading couch and was petting her absently. Feeling the imminence of our departure, Rufa's newly attained self confidence seemed to be on the brink of deserting her. As for me, the idea of loosing her silent company was suddenly more unsettling that I'd expected. My brief goodbye to Eugenia had not been so hard even when my vague promise to keep in touch sounded false to my own ears and the look in her lovely emerald eyes told me she knew I was vanishing from her life forever.
"Rufa," I called quietly.
She raised her head and looked at me with wide, puppy eyes which were suspiciously bright and I had to steel myself not to let mine be blurred by tears.
"Rufa," I started, "we'd talked about this and you know it's necessary that you go to the Lady Lucilla and Master Lucius and why... The emperor does his duty to Rome and her people and expects us to do ours too..."
The Numidian girl sniffled noisily but nodded energetically. I dug in my purse, found the little gold chain with the enamelled Egyptian beetle the senator's son had given me and put it around her neck while I went on talking in what I hoped was a soothing tone but suspected had a hint of raising hysteria.
"The emperor's been very generous. You'll go into his household and in due time you'll become an imperial freedwoman. Imperial freed people are highly regarded in Rome and you'd be even above most of them for you'd be the one who cared for Master Lucius and he may become emperor one day ... I'm so proud of you..."
I managed to control my trembling hands long enough to work the clasp.
"This comes from Egypt," I went on, "where the gods are stronger than Rome's and really protect those who believe in them and take care of them even in the Afterlife..."
Rufa smiled wanly. As an African of pure blood she couldn't regard the Roman gods but as a slightly amusing bunch of eccentric selfish characters whose dignity was sometimes as dubious as that of the empire's aristocrats.
"This is the symbol of their sun god," I went on saying. "They say the sun is so bright in Egypt that you cannot doubt it's his chosen land ..."
Now I was babbling, looking for a way to stretch the moment, to delay the departure of my last link with the only world I'd ever known while at the same time struggling to keep my dignity.
A discreet cough made both of us flinch. Cornelius Crassus was at the door. I knelt and took Rufa's face between my hands. My pale skin looked like ivory on the ebony of her features. "Rufa!" I urged her in a low voice. "Remember your promise! Take care of Master Lucius and serve the Lady Lucilla as loyally as you've served me! And don't forget the secret message!"
Rufa nodded solemnly. Cornelius Crassus remained at the threshold, far enough not to overhear our exchange. "Do you remember the message, Rufa?" I asked her in a low voice. She nodded again and whispered in her guttural, heavily accented Latin: "Someone come with message. He honors a debt grandfather vowed to pay..." Suddenly, Rufa frowned. "Will be you, Mistress Julia?"
She was but a girl. The mystery had caught her, overriding her anguish as, hopefully, the novelty of the palace and her new position would do with her fear. I smiled and nodded. Her face brightened. "You come to palace, Mistress Julia?"
"Yes, Rufa, someday I'll go to the palace and you'll tell me about your wonderful life there," I answered and before she could ask me another question, I hugged her, then kissed both her cheeks and raised to my feet. "Go, Rufa. Don't make the quaestor wait!"
Valiantly, Rufa walked towards him and Cornelius Crassus put his right hand on the girl's shoulder, gently guiding her towards the entrance. Before turning around, he bowed his head politely, then walked away.

The door closed with the finality of a lid slamming over an enamelled Egyptian sarcophagus. Suddenly I thought that if the embalmed corpses groomed for eternity kept their senses and could hear that sound, they'd probably feel as doomed and as lonely as I felt at that moment.

I slept on the moth eaten reading couch. My travelling chest provided me with sheets and blankets. The next morning I forced myself to make plans for my new home. Not having been a service slave I'd never had to do house duties but I'd always lived in clean, tidy places and even managed a household so I had an idea about what needed to be done. I attacked the task with ferocity and not only managed to get myself a couple of blisters when I tried to light the fire of the cooking bench and three broken nails when I moved the furniture but also some semblance of a home. But I refused to get out of the apartment during the first three days and only when there was no more fruit in the bowl I was forced to get out. I washed the best I could, picked up a basket, my oil flask and strigil and, after dressing myself in a discreet blue tunic and a matching cloak, I went out.
The Quirinale was a quiet neighbourhood, clean and airy. The houses were solid stone and good masonry, their windows opening to the inner courtyards. The front doors remained bolted and were managed by porters who opened the heavy iron locks to let in or out slaves carrying baskets, checked visitors and men and women were carried in chairs or litters. At some corners there were small and clean stalls, most of them selling fruit or bread. Gathering my courage, I walked towards the woman who managed one and while I was buying some bread I asked her where the closest baths were located. She directed me to a small and quiet place where I paid the fee, got a place to leave my clothes and basket and put myself in the hands of the attendants.
I was surprised to discover that I felt embarrassed about taking off my clothes. Nudity had been an important part of my former life and I'd shared the baths at Cassius' villa and at the camp in Moesia with a dozen other women, not to mention the girls and the attending slaves. But, somehow, undressing in front of strangers, was more unsettling that I'd expected. Probably the slaves who rubbed me with fragant oil and scrapped my skin with the strigil thought I was a little odd or perhaps new in the ways of the Urbs. But they were well trained and little by little I relaxed under their ministrations. When I got out of the steam room I was a lot more comfortable and allowed them to wash my hair before going into the tepidarium. As always, I avoided the frigidarium for I could never understand what kind of satisfaction can be obtained from immersing yourself in cold water.

When I came out of the baths -- clean, groomed and perfumed just for my own pleasure and not for the next man's one -- I felt a lot more confident. On the way home, I stopped at another stall to buy some fruit and a block ahead I discovered a place where the vitellina fricta smelled wonderfully. Following a sudden impulse, I bought a serving and winced when the man behind the counter wrapped it in an old scroll that seemed to be covered in poetry... I hurried home hoping to be able to save at least part of the writing. There was a moment of panic when I thought I was lost and realized I didn't know the name of the street or the number of the house where I now lived ... but I was able to keep myself calm long enough to find the building. When I put my parcel on a dish, the grease had soaked the wrapping and it was obvious the papyrus was beyond help. Suddenly, it didn't matter: I'd just discovered that I was ravenous. The fried veal was delicious.

The first visitor knocked at my door two days later. I was not surprised to find Cornelius Crassus at the threshold for he was the only one besides the banker who knew where I lived. We looked at each other in silence. Then, he smiled tentatively.
"Good day, Domina. May I come in?"
"Good day, quaestor. Please, come in."
If Cornelius Crassus was surprised to find me dressed in a simple, sand colored tunic and with a piece of cloth tied around my waist as an improvised apron, he didn't show it. And neither showed if the fact that despite his advice I kept my waist long hair lose surprised or upset him.
"Domina, I came to bring you your signet ring. It'll allow you to pay bills and do other bank transactions. Keep it in a safe place." He handed me a little bag a lot more plain than the one the emperor had given me to keep his own signet ring. Mine was not as big as a man's and a lot more lighter but it looked impressive enough. When I turned the ring to take a look at the carving which I'd imprint on sealing wax, I felt like laughing for the figure which would validate my future letters and documents was that of an owl.
The owl is the symbol of the goddess Minerva, a nearly forgotten cult among the twelve main gods Rome inherited from Greece. It was not surprising that her altars in the Urbs were scarce and neglected, her followers few, her priests even less for, what use has Rome for a virgin warrior who's both patroness of wisdom and war? How could brave Roman soldiers ask for the protection of a helmeted maiden before engaging in battle? And how could the almighty men who decide the future of millions from their marble seats at the Senate low themselves to ask a cold beauty who wears a military cuirass over her female tunic for guidance? How could their pious wives and daughters be interested in a vengeful female who turned the crow from pristine white into pitch black and a beautiful mortal woman who dared question her embroidering skills into an ugly spider, a deity who defeated in combat the immortals who tried to rape her and wasn't even born from another goddess but from her father's brain? No, Romans love their powerful Jupiter and their prophetic Apollo and their raging Mars and also the raucous Bacchus, the god of wine and divine madness. And when it comes to female deities, they have their voluptuous Venus and their chaste Vesta. They accept the virginal Diana because she's the patroness of hunting and anything involving blood shed immediately gets Roman approval... and if they want a model wife, they turn to Juno, who endures Jupiter's infidelities and gave him legitimate children just like the Roman matrons are expected to do. No, unlike the old Greeks, who made of their Pallas Athena the patroness of their capital city and second only to her almighty father, Zeus, her Roman version is but an oddity who can only attract the interest of people like me -- a slave who was a whore but only wanted to learn to read and write -- who are oddities by ourselves. Briefly I asked myself which gods and goddesses would Maximus worship, for I was sure that, unlike me, he was a religious man. Being a soldier, probably Mars had a place of honor in his personal altar. But he was also a farmer and Ceres, the goddess of the crops, probably had her share of his prayers and offers.
"And here is the document which certifies your manumission," said Cornelius Crassus, bringing me back from my musings. "I've already inscribed you as a freedwoman in the public register. As you were a property of a man accused of treason who's wealth was confiscated, your last owner was technically the emperor so you'll be regarded as an imperial freed woman. The document says so and I suggest you keep it in your bank box. You'll be required to produce it in certain cases, for example if you want to buy a property or... before your marriage contract is written..."
Before I could say again that I didn't plan to marry, he went on talking.
"As you didn't tell me which name you wanted to be called by as a freed woman, I took the liberty of choosing it for you. I hope you'll not be disappointed."
I unrolled the scroll he was offering me and eyed it briefly: even being barely literate I could distinguish my own name followed by the patronymic the quaestor had chosen for me. I couldn't but smile at it. No, I was not disappointed. Merely amused.
Cornelius Crassus was looking at me intently. I managed to offer him a smile.
"Thank you, quaestor," I said quietly.
"There... there's another reason I came to visit you, Domina. I'm leaving Rome. Caesar's orders. Some affairs in Britannia require that I go there... "
Like it had happened that night at my tent, during the storm, Cornelius Crassus now looked vulnerable, lonely and young. Vaguely I asked myself if his marching orders were but another proof or Marcus Aurelius' ease to read men and women's hearts and if knowing the young quaestor would become more interested in his "personal charge" than it was good for him, the emperor had given him time enough to do his duty before removing him from the city to avoid him making a fool of himself.
"I expected to remain longer in Rome," he said as if answering a non spoken question. "But I depart for Ostia tomorrow and in a couple of days I'll sail for Britannia. I don't know how long I'll remain there..."
I remained silent and Cornelius Crassus took a deep breath.
"Domina, as you know I'm a loyal servant to the emperor and when you helped save the empire you also helped save his life. For this, I'm grateful to you. I hoped to have time enough to show you my gratitude and loyalty, but I'm a servant of Rome and I'm asked to do my duty once more."
He paused for a moment. Then, he went on talking.
"I hoped to bring you a present to prove my gratitude but it'll take a bit to arrive and when it does I'll be away. But I'd made the necessary arrangements and you'll get it as soon as it arrives to Rome..."
I was aghast. A present? I started to protest but he stopped me with his hand.
"I've managed to find a present for you which is worth a king's ransom but won't compromise you. I'm sure you'll make the better possible use of it."
I didn't know what to say and Cornelius Crassus was noticeably making an effort to keep his face unreadable. "Thank you, quaestor," I mumbled just to break the uncomfortable silence. He nodded, then turned around and walked towards the door. I followed him and he awaited me to open the lock. He crossed the threshold and turned around to look at me one more time.
"Farewell, Domina. May the gods protect you."
"Farewell, quaestor. May they keep you safe and bring you happiness."
He bowed, turned on his heels and walked away from my life.

A week later, I was still trying to turn the big, empty apartment into something resembling a home. That morning I was trying to decide the best way to move the old reading couch from the anteroom into the bedroom when I was startled by a knock at my door. Rubia, which had been looking at me from her place on a table, twitched her ears.
I frowned. Who could be calling? Cornelius Crassus? No, he was on his way to Britannia and I knew by the look in his eyes when they last looked at me that he'd made up his mind and would never come back. Some of the women? It was not probable. They'd be too busy or too dazzled with their own lives to have the time and strength to look for me and even in this case, they wouldn't know where to begin...
Whoever it was knocked again forcing me to go to the door. My footsteps echoed in the mostly empty chambers and the visitor knocked for a third time before I reached the door and threw it open.
It was a man I'd never seen before. He was tall and in his early forties, with a full mane of curly, beautiful white hair. His skin was slightly bronzed, his eyes hazel brown and his features pleasant but not bland, these kind of features that speak of both intelligence and sensibility. He was cleanly shaven, dressed in an elegant, immaculate toga and carried himself with easy elegance.
He looked at me for a moment and then he smiled. And his smile was one of those contagious grins you cannot avoid to return even if you don't even notice that you are smiling back. It was a smile that invited confidence and offered comfort. Then, the man spoke and his voice was as you'd expect it to be: gentle, educated, soothing but with an underlying hint of humour.
"So he was right", he said as his smile broadened. "You're exactly like we imagined the sirens to be."

The white haired man who'd been Cornelius Crassus' tutor bowed his head and said in his pleasant, cultured voice, "Forgive me, Domina, I didn't mean to be disrespectful. It's only that I've always had a soft spot for the sirens but I'd never had the chance to meet one in person".
I was aghast. Not for the compliment --even if it was wildly extravagant-- but because Cornelius Crassus parting words now made sense. The quaestor may have tried to lure me with jewels and silks into becoming his mistress yet he'd chosen to help me find my own way by giving me the promised present which was worth a king's ransom but would not compromise me. And his present was there, patiently standing at my threshold and kindly smiling at me.
"May I come in, Domina?" asked the man. "I think we need to talk."
Mumbling an apology, I opened the door wider to allow him into the apartment while babbling some incoherence about not being prepared to receive callers. Apollinarius dismissed my apologies with a movement of his elegant hand and looked around.
"I'm Apollinarius, Domina. But I'm sure you know this and you also know I was Cornelius Crassus' tutor. The quaestor thought you may like to know me."
"What did Cornelius Crassus tell you about me?" I asked noticing absentmindedly that I had voiced his name for the first time.
"That you're as smart as you're beautiful and that you may like to pursue an education. If you're interested in my tutoring, Domina, I'm free at the moment and will be delighted to teach you. But you must know that I'd never tutored a lady or an adult..."
I clasped my hands nervously. We were standing in the middle of a nearly empty room, our voices echoing in the hollowness of the chamber. The sun streamed through an open shutter and framed the beautiful profile of the man, who seemed to feel very much at ease despite the lack of comfort that surrounded him and the awkwardness of the woman in front of him. My discomfort suddenly turned into irritation.
"You know what I mean!"
He went on looking at me in his gentle, kind way and said, "Domina, there's nothing to worry about..."
"Don't humour me!" I snapped.
The white haired man looked at me for a long moment, then walked towards the table and caught Rubia in his manicured hands. The kitten happily accepted his petting, managing in the meantime to increase my irritation: Rubia had always rejected everybody but Rufa and me. I scowled at the cat but she purred loudly as the man knowingly rubbed her ears. He walked towards the reading couch and sat there, still petting the kitten, apparently lost in his thoughts. When he raised his head, his face was no more a pleasant mask but an open book. He knew that I knew what he was. A man who was no lover of women. A former slave like myself. Someone who had known pain and humiliation and loneliness. A survivor. Someone who loved books and words and beauty and cats. Someone who could understand me... thus someone I was both anxious and scared to be close to. He was someone I needed, thus he was dangerous.
"I was born in Greece but when I was six years old I was taken from my mother and sent by ship to Alexandria," he started. "I was not alone. There were other boys and girls about my age and we were all terrified but also too sick to even weep. In Alexandria we were allowed to recover, fed, bathed and groomed but not given clothes. We were naked when they put us on the auction block. We were pawed and examined by our prospective buyers who seemed satisfied with us for the lot was quickly sold. I was taken along other boys by dark haired, dark eyed men dressed in exotic clothes. Soon I was sailing again, this time towards Syria. Long before arriving to Antiochia, I knew what my fate was to be. As soon as we were at the sea, our new masters raped us one by one..."
He paused and I walked silently towards the couch and sat beside him, enthralled by his voice, humbled by his tragedy and the dignity he had managed to retain.
"I'd been sold to a male brothel, a luxurious one favoured by the rich of this inclination and even Roman magistrates. In the beginning, I rebelled... and was severely punished. I learned the lesson and from then on I was well fed, well groomed, even pampered, taught the subtleties of my trade... and forced to handsomely repay my masters what they'd paid for me. I endured. I survived. I grew up. But when I was sixteen, I became restless. I wanted more. I wanted to breath air which was free of the cloying scents of the perfumed oils which burned day and night in the brothel and were rubbed on my skin. I wanted to learn. To travel. To ask questions and receive answers. I wanted to be free..."

The Greek freedman paused again and, without a word I raised my right hand and joined his as he went on caressing the now ecstatically happy kitten. He raised his head and smiled to me, a little smile which made my heart painfully swell, for it was sweet and boyish enough to remind me of Maximus'.
"The night he came to the brothel he didn't ask for me. We'd never met before. The only reason why we met was because my frustration and anger had driven me into nearly killing a particularly vicious patron. He saw me when I was dragged out of the room by the brothel's guards and thoroughly beaten and kicked while the client screamed that I should be crucified and my master seemed in the brink of following the advice. But he stepped into the corridor and ordered the thugs to stop beating me. His was a commanding voice, the voice of a man used to be obeyed. When I raised my eyes I saw the figure of a tall man in his early fifties. Even if he was dressed informally it was obvious he was a high ranking Roman magistrate. My master's attitude changed into one of servility and the frustrated client suddenly went mute. He ordered the guards to raise me to my feet and used his own handkerchief to clean my bloodied face. 'What's your name, beautiful one?' he asked and I told him, for his eyes were gentle and so was his voice. 'How old are you?' he went on and I answered with no delay. He smiled. 'I'll give you ten thousand sesterces for him,' he said to my master without even looking at him. Money changed hands and I was taken to his house..."

"He was a former Roman consul, his name's not important. When I recovered enough, we travelled to his estate in Greece. He'd spent most of his time in the provinces, first as a soldier, then as a magistrate, and now preferred to live the quiet life of a scholar away from Rome. We talked for hours on end and when he discovered that I longed to learn, he took my education in his hands. He taught me all he knew and when it was not enough to satiate my thirst of knowledge, he hired teachers and was proud of my achievements. He took me with him to the libraries, the theatre, the public readings. He made me his travelling companion. He gave endlessly and never asked. And when I went to his bed I didn't do it out of duty but for love. We enjoyed ten years of blissful happiness and Apollinarius, the lover, replaced Apollinarius, the whore."
He pronounced his own name with a lovely lilting, the only, subtle change in his utterly perfect Latin.
"From time to time, we came to Rome. We were here when he got suddenly ill and soon we knew that our days were numbered. By then, he'd already made me a freedman and provided for me. In his will, he left me an important legacy but when he was gone, his eldest son, who was to the executor of the document, refused to honor it. I was not destitute, for I had a small farm in Campania and money at the bank. And I was too heartbroken to mind the money and too overwhelmed to consider taking a young, raising senator to trial over his own father's will. I gathered my books and went to my farm. I wanted to take my own life but I'd promised him in his deathbed not to do it. I was damned to live. Damned to be alone... "
The freedman's eyes were now bright with unshed tears. But he went on talking.
"Nearly a year passed and one day a man came to my door. He was an old friend of my patron, another high ranking Roman who shared his love for books and history and art. He'd always praised my knowledge and joked about me being the perfect Greek tutor. The worried look in his eyes told me that I must look wretched and I felt curiously ashamed. We drank some wine and the man explained me that he'd been looking for me for months. The unexpected death of his widowed daughter had left him with a couple of grandsons to raise and educate. He wanted me to be their tutor. I wanted to say no, to remain in my farm, away from Rome and my memories. But at the same time, this visitor from the past made me long for a change. I came to Rome with him. I met his grandsons and started teaching them. And I discovered how rewarding teaching can be, the pride and joy of feeding a hungry, young mind. When the boys went into the army, their grandfather sent me to the Cornelii..."
Apollinarius now smiled with open affection.
"The quaestor has always been my favorite student. He was smarter than his brother but he'd been badly neglected both by his father and that fool of his former tutor. The young Crassus was a challenge and not everybody likes one..."
His smile broadened. "I retired two years ago but when the quaestor came to Campania looking for me he said that in Rome awaited me a challenge I'd never be able to resist, a woman who was smart and brave and looked as we dreamed the sirens would be. I can see your beauty with my own eyes and there's no doubt that you are smart and brave but, are you a challenge, Domina?"
"What do you think?" I snapped before I could check myself.
He grinned. "I think that I'd enjoy very much teaching you!"
I grinned back. "When do you want to start?"
The Greek freedman frowned. "What about now?"
My eyes opened in surprise. "Now?" I squeaked.
"Have you got any better plans?" he snapped back.
"N-no," I answered. He grinned. I returned the grin. We looked at each other for a moment and then, as if obeying some mysterious signal, we laughed in unison.

I only saw Cornelius Crassus once more. It happened three years later, at the theatre. I was there with my husband and he was with his wife. They sat a few rows ahead and I caught them when he turned casually towards me. He was dressed in the pristine, purple stripped toga, for in due time the Senate had claimed him. The woman by his side was pretty in a soft and pleasant way while I was a statuesque, cold beauty that made men turn their heads around and ask my name. She was dressed in a familiar shade of sea green silk while I was wrapped in midnight blue. Her hair was artfully coiled and she wore a discrete but expensive Etruscan tiara and necklace. My sapphires were as discrete and as expensive and my hairdo as artful as hers. My eyes and Cornelius Crassus' locked for a moment and I saw his spark, first in recognition then in open admiration. Then, as he noticed the elegant, silver haired man by my side, he sobered himself and nodded briefly. I nodded in return having no doubt that my husband had noticed the exchange. Nothing escaped his attention even if he mostly choose not to mention the fact. Cornelius Crassus' wife placed a hand on his arm to call his attention, displaying her elegant profile. The former quaestor had married the right blood and old money. I hope he had also married happiness for he was a good man.
The lady had red-gold hair.

Fifth Entry - Marriage - A.D. 175

When I look back at those first months of my life I shared with Apollinarius I cannot but smile. I look back and see a blue eyed, red-gold haired girl who could barely contain her excitement as she awaited the daily visit of her recently acquired tutor.
A former slave and whore who frowned over a papyrus she was trying to master while she thoughtfully gnawed at the end of her stylus. A freedwoman who easily forgot to eat while she hungrily eyed scroll after scroll, feeding her mind and soul while she neglected to feed her body. Apollinarius was everything Cornelius Crassus had told me he was: a scholar who loved knowledge but kept perfectly in touch with life, a born teacher, a smart, sensitive man who didn't need a classroom to validate
his lessons for his school was life itself.

He took an apartment at the Quirinale, close to the city limits and walked every morning to mine to give me my lessons. Reading and writing were priorities. Then, little by little, he added ciphering, history, geography, art, philosophy and Greek. Or
to tell the truth, he wanted to go little by little but I urged him ahead with such impatience that he couldn't but laugh. He allowed me to find my own rhythm and when I discovered that mathematics were not as easy as I'd thought, he didn't give the
"I-told-you-so" look but patiently taught me my lessons again and when I was on the brink of despair, he gave me my first geometry notions and I discovered that I could relate to this easily. So, together, we found the way around ciphers. Whenever I
complained that I was not learning fast enough, that there was so much to read that I'd never be able to do it, he didn't patronise me or humoured me. Instead he listed all I've already mastered before meeting him: my flawless, upper class Latin, my manners, my good taste and my natural ability to organise and deal with things in a methodical way. "Not to mention your common sense, Julia," he added from across the table. "And you cannot learn common sense or buy it at Trajan's Market. You
cannot inherit it nor they can impose it to you along with a name and a bulla: you have it or you haven't." This did little to comfort me over my difficulties with Greek declensions but I couldn't but admit he was right: Silvia Cornelia's Latin was not
better than mine and her manners and taste were decidedly worst, not to mention how she managed --or failed to manage-- her lazy, ill trained household. And she had no common sense at all.

Apollinarius didn't restrict his teaching to books. He took me to the streets, the markets, the libraries, the Forum, the theatre. He took me to clean, respectable taverns and while we ate he told me stories about his trips. His advice was gentle and his suggestions subtle and smart. A word here and there helped me discover how I wanted to furnish my home, how I wanted to dress for a night out, what I wanted my life to be. He encouraged me to dare do those things I'd always wanted to do and
discouraged me to follow the path towards which hate and resentment threatened to push me. Under his tutelage and as my education progressed even putting my past behind seemed possible.

One day, he arrived to my apartment to find me scowling at the coffer in which I'd tossed both the jewels used to adorn the pleasure slaves and those given to me by some of the men I'd serviced. In my haste to establish at my place and, later, in the
frenzy of education, I'd forgotten to go to the nearest sewer and throw them into the waste where they belonged along with my soiled past. That morning, he didn't give me my lesson. Instead, he sat down and heard me while I told him about Cassius and
my childhood at the villa, about the special slaves and the senator and my years of service in his private brothel. I told him about my trip to Moesia and how the emperor had freed me and why... but not about Maximus or how I'd fallen in love with him. I
never told Apollinarius that my daily hours with him were the only ones I was free from Maximus' presence. That when he bid me good evening and went back to his home, I remained up till late and not always because I was reading or studying but more often than not because I was revisiting my days with Maximus at the camp. If Apollinarius suspected there was something more in my tale, he didn't ask and I was grateful. It was the first of the many times I'd be grateful for his discretion and I felt my heart warm towards him even more.

When I finished my tale, he took the coffer from my white knuckled hands and said "Leave this to me, Julia." I didn't argue for suddenly I was too exhausted to do so. He took it with him and when he came back the next day we didn't talk about it. But
three days later he came to my place followed by a two porters who carried into my home two chests full of precious manuscripts. "W-what's this, Apollinarius?" I asked when I recovered my voice. "Your own library, my dear," he said as he tipped the men and dismissed them. "Marcus Antonius gave Cleopatra two hundred thousand books from Pergamum's Library to comfort her from the loss of the Alexandrian one... I cannot top such a man but I can help you start your own..."
My eyes blurred. I bit my lower lip. "Y-you shouldn't," I managed to babble. "I-I'll r-repay you..." "There's no need, Julia," he said in his usual, gentle tone. "I've a good friend who's a jeweller and was more than happy to get his hands on that coffer ..."
He smiled and, as usual, I couldn't but return his grin. "And now, to class with you! Did you know Queen Cleopatra spoke thirteen languages? Thirteen languages, lady! I'm sure she never complained about Greek being difficult to learn!" My lips
trembled, torn as I was between tears and laugh. This was an usual game between us. "Of course she didn't!" I snapped back. "She learned it in the cradle!" "Smart girl!" said Apollianarius cheerfully as he went over Greek grammar once more.
In due time, I mastered Cleopatra's mother tongue.

It was Apollinarius who brought in Nicia. He insisted I should have a maid to take care of the apartment, the meals and my clothes. We argued. I refused to buy a slave, to be an accomplice of the system which made a whore of a twelve years old girl.
He agreed wholeheartedly and told me he despised freedmen and freedwomen who made up for their pasts filling their houses with human merchandise. But he was adamant about the maid. I snapped back that I didn't want someone living in
the sanctum of my home, invading my privacy and prying in my life. When his only answer was a broad smile, I knew he'd caught me. I knew he'd found a discreet woman who needn't lodge with me in order to fulfil her duties. "Who's she?" I asked briskly from across the table we used for lessons. "Your neighbour's housekeeper's wife", answered Apollinarius while he steadied the folds of his elegant toga. I frowned. "Neighbour?"
My tutor sighed. "Neighbour: person who lives close. It's usual to exchange greetings and pleasantries with that people. This kind of exchange is usually referred to as 'good manners'!" He sighed again. "Seriously talking, Julia, you need to relax, to start
seeing people, to talk to others but me and the people I introduce you to!"
"I fail to understand how a maid can help me 'relax'", I answered impatiently. I didn't want a maid. I wanted to go back to my lessons.
"Nicia is a jewel", went on Apollinarius. "She's decent, clean and efficient. And she lives just a flight of steps from you! She can do the house chores and go down by night -- after setting your dinner! -- not intruding in your life..."
I screwed up my face. "Is she Greek?" I asked and Apollinarius laughed. "Of course she is!" he said. "She and her husband are Micenian born. He was one of your neighbour's foremen's but he was injured at the shipyard and his master compensated him by making him the steward of his Roman home. As the man spends most of his time away, they mostly have nothing to do..."
"How is it that you know so much about my neighbour?" I asked. I used to admire the garden in the ground floor apartment and its unusual fountain but only now I took notice that the place had been empty but for the caretakers.
"Because I don't go around with my nose stuck in a papyrus," he answered. "I exchange words with the people I see on regular basis. Nicia heard me hum an old Greek tune and we started talking. She's bored. Her six sons have already married and with their master away for over a year, her husband has no need of much help. She thought you may like to employ her as your maid. By the way, she noticed you don't have a maid ..."
"And you and her have already decided that I should have one!"
"Julia, don't be so stubborn! You cannot go on doing the house chores, shopping for food, taking your clothes to the laundry, eating poorly or forgetting to eat and deal with your studies at the same time!"
"I don't need a maid!" I insisted.
"Think it this way: if you hire Nicia you'd be able to devote more time to your studies... and you'd be able to do some things that require you be accompanied by another female. For example, travelling!"
"Travelling? I'm not planning to travel anywhere!"
"Oh." Apollinarius felt silent and bit his lower lip like a wounded child. Then he said, "I thought you'd like to visit my farm in Campania ..."
My jaw fell. "Your farm? You're inviting me to your farm?"
"I was going to ... but I suppose I'll have to go there alone..."
My heart sank. "Are you returning to Campania?" I asked in a scared voice.
"I always spend my birthday at my farm."
Now I was at a loss. Birthday? He'd been born a slave and slaves don't have either childhood or toys and of course no birthdays. Nobody keeps records of the date and the portents of our entrance in this world. They just count us and file us as
males or females along with the livestock in the yearly balance sheet of our masters. But Apollinarius claimed to celebrate his birthday...
"When they took me from my mother, she run after me and hugged me one last time," said Apollinarius in a low voice. "Before they dragged her away, she whispered in my ear 'Never forget the date you were born! November 13th!' I don't remember my
mother's face, Julia, just her words... Since the former consul saved me from the brothel, I've always celebrated my birthday. Two weeks from now, I'll be forty two."
We remained in silence for a long time. Suddenly I asked myself when Maximus' birthday would be. I didn't know and now there was no way I could learn the date, another hole in the scarce information I already had about the man whom I desperately loved and longed for.
I cleared my throat. "Do you want me to go to Campania for your birthday?"
"There's no other person I'd love more to have by my side on this day... but you cannot lodge under the same roof as me without a personal maid..."
"If I bring that Nicia, may I go to Campania with you?"
Apollinarius raised his head and grinned. "Of course you can!"
"All right! Hire her! Now, can we go on reading?"
Apollinarius chuckled. "I'll go down and fetch Nicia! But you, my dear, you do the hiring!" I started to protest but he stopped me. "You do the hiring, young lady! Consider it another lesson!"

Nicia proved to be the jewel Apollinarius had praised. After a clumsy start on my part -- I'd never hired a servant or given orders to a free born person --and once she controlled her tendency to mother me around, we came to a truce and things run
smoothly. As Apollinarius predicted, now that the lively woman was around, I had more time to devote to my studies. The three of us went to Campania and the trip was exciting even if winter was close. We remained at the farm for a week, enjoyed
peace, long walks in the country side and a nice party to celebrate my tutor's birthday. Then, we turned to Rome before serious cold settled in. When we arrived to the building were I lived, we discovered a group of porters carrying luggage into it. It was an impressive train and Nicia's husband was at the door, directing the men into the ground floor apartment.
My mysterious neighbour had come back home.

His name was Marius Servilius Tibullus and I met him a few days later, when I was going to the market with Nicia. He was coming in, followed by two men which I'd later know were his secretaries, a tall man in his early fifties, cleanly shaven, perfectly groomed and elegantly dressed. He was handsome in an old fashioned way, with his silver hair swept over his high forehead and slightly tanned skin. Nicia introduced us and we exchanged polite nods and greetings. Then, he talked some more to Nicia but his eyes never left me. Yet his was not a lustful glare. Instead, it was a hard, calculating, scrutinising one. Somehow, it didn't unsettle me. This was not a lust ridden man but one who was ridden by what was in his mind. I could understand a man like this. I could deal with a man like this. He noticed that I didn't waver under his scrutiny and seemed to find it amusing for a light smile curved his thin lips.
But the smile never touched his silvery grey eyes.

Marius Servilius Tibullus' return subtly altered my relationship with Nicia. It started immediately after our first meeting, when my maid told me he'd interrogated her about me. He'd been curt as he always was but also throughout. I dismissed the comment but Nicia was too excited and as Apollinarius was not due for another half hour, I listened to her while she recited the man's profile: even if Marius Servilius Tibullus favored a simple way of living, he was extremely wealthy. He was a shipbuilder and merchant who devoted every single moment and every single ounce of his strength to his business. A childless widower, he was a hard but fair master. He had no known family and, according to Nicia, he'd never showed interest in any woman that they knew. And they'd known him for over twenty years.
I didn't pay more attention to Nicia's words than to the gossip you hear at the baths or the markets yet when the first amphora of Caecuban wine appeared on my table I arched my eyebrows quizzically. It was followed by a bag of the best dates money
could buy and later by a box of exotic sweets. Nicia told me Marius Servilius Tibullus imported most of the luxury merchandise that was to be found in Rome. Yet his presents never were compromising ones.

Three months and some more amphorae and sweets later, a servant delivered a small roll of papyrus. It contained just a line written in a clear, sharp calligraphy: "I'll be visiting you just before dusk." He'd signed and sealed the letter with the same
sharpness and efficiency of his writing. His signet ring sported a pair of entwined anchors. Marius Servilius Tibullus didn't ask for permission and thus avoided being refused it. It was either a sign of audacity or arrogance. Or both. Anyway, his visit
promised to be a highly unusual one.

"I'm sure Nicia told you enough about me to spare us wasting time..."
We were seating in my dining room for it seemed the right thing to do when receiving a man who was a virtual unknown. Marius Servilius Tibullus had accepted a goblet of his own wine and gone to the point, sparing me the vagaries and pleasantries dictated by good manners. For this I was thankful.
"I hate wasting time, Domina. I'm a business man and I believe in being frontal: I want you to become my wife. I'm wealthy enough to offer you a life more than an aristocrat would envy. I want to get married as soon as possible for I have to return to
my shipyards which I've neglected during the last three months. We'll live at my villa in Ostia most of the time."
I knew he'd been courting me in his brusque, business like way and had anticipated the personal nature of his visit. I thought he'd wanted to buy my favors and was ready to reject him in a way that left not doubt. But nothing had prepared me for a
marriage proposal. Specially, one so brisk and direct. Somehow, I managed to compose my face.
"Thank you, Domine. Your offer's generous but I don't want to marry you..."
"Domina, I've been a businessman since I was sixteen. I'm a very good one and I've made more money than I can even remember. The reason why I'm so good is because I'm frontal and never take no for an answer..."
His tone was perfectly reasonable. A man at ease discussing a contract.
"Yet there's always a first time for everything. I don't want to be your wife. Nothing personal. I just don't want to marry. Now if you've said what you have to say, lets not waste both our time. Have a good day, Domine."
I stood up to emphasise my words.
He didn't move.
"I've been told you're not only exquisitely beautiful but also smart. I'm ready to bargain, Domina."
Standing while he remained sitting I was at clear disadvantage. But if I sat down again, I'd be acknowledging he had the upper hand. I remained standing.
"You may be ready to bargain but I'm not, Domine. As it seems that you really want to marry, I hope the gods guide you to the right woman..."
I turned around to leave the room but his next words stopped me dead.
"You don't believe in the gods any more than I do, Domina. As you see, we've something in common. And I want no other wife but you."
"No, Domine, you don't want me for your wife: I was born a slave. I've been a freedwoman just for a year. Now, if you excuse me ..."
Still he didn't move, just shrugged.
"If you want to dissuade me, Domina, you'll have to do better than this. My grandfather was a freedman. He started the business I own. I'm not after the right blood, Domina. I leave this to horse breeders. Now, would you mind telling me what do you want from me in order to settle the wedding date?"

This was not going the way it was supposed to go. I had to stop it. I returned to my chair, sat down and looked directly into his silvery grey eyes.
"Domine, you don't want to marry me: I was a slave and a whore. Since I was twelve years old and for the following six I knew no other life but doing my duty to my master ... in whoever's bed he decided I was to do it."
His face betrayed no emotion but I saw a spark in his eyes. I'd wanted to repulse him, to spoil his interest. Instead, I'd managed to trigger his respect.
"Petty businessmen believe in cheating but good ones appreciate sincerity. I deeply appreciate yours, Domina. But it doesn't change my mind: contrary to many men my age, I don't crave for virginity. If I'd wanted a maiden, I'd have enough money to
buy me a hundred. Yet I don't want an untried girl. I want a smart, beautiful, independent woman. I want to marry you."
"Domine, you're making this unnecessarily difficult... I don't want to marry either you or any other man. I don't want to ... to bed you ... or any man ... You'd want to have heirs and that is your right but I don't want to be the one giving you children.
Excuse me, Domine, but I'm not the woman you need..."

Marius Servilius Tibullus reclined in his chair and studied me with his clear, unforgiving eyes. For the first time his unreadable, handsome face betrayed an emotion. Sympathy. And, for some reason, it didn't hurt.
"Domina, I'm fifty two years old. I'm well past my youth. I married once. My wife died while giving birth. She bled to death and they cut her to save my son but it was too late. He'd died too. I never again wanted a child..."
The conversation was taking a personal turn which I didn't like. I tried to interrupt him but he stopped me with a gesture of his hand.
"Domina, no matter how healthy I look to you, I'm ill. Seriously ill. A weakness of the marrow. The physicians cannot do anything about it, not even tell me how much time I have. Day by day, I'm getting weaker. I don't have strength to waste at a
woman's bed. I need my time -- whatever time I'm left -- to achieve more important things than physical satisfaction..."
He paused for a moment and I studied him carefully. Beneath his tan, there was a sickly pallor and shadows under his eyes. His hands were too thin.
"Among the things I want to achieve before dying, it's enjoying certain aspects of my life I neglected, busy as I was with my ships. I want a house that's not empty, a female touch around me. I want to open my villa to visitors and enjoy the gardens I
never had time to re-design. I want to hear music and go to the theatre and eat meals which aren't chosen by my steward. Domina, what I'm offering you is a job. And a not a light one. You'll be expected to manage a big household, receive guests,
refurbish entire wings of my villa, design the gardens a new, accompany me to dinners and the theatre and nurse me when I need it. Nowadays I mostly experience no discomfort from my sickness but the physicians had told me what to expect. I'm not easily pleased and you'll have to work hard. In return, you'd be provided with every luxury you may want or need. You'll have money, jewels and clothes befitted your new station. And, when I die, you'll have my business. All of it."

I was aghast. Not only by the offer to make me his heir but for the aloofness of his speech. How could he speak so coldly about his own death?
"Domine", I tried once more. "I'm sorry to hear about your health but I still think you're wrong about me... What you need is to adopt a male heir, someone who can appreciate your offer and help you with your burdens."
For the first time, Marius Servilius Tibullus laughed and his laugh was as sharp as his calligraphy. And, like his smile, it didn't reach his eyes.
"A heir? What kind do you suggest, Domina? A youth who'd waste my money at the chariot's races? Or an adult who'd find it difficult to wait for death to claim me and may decide to speed up my departure? No, thanks, Domina. I prefer a woman like
you who, once committed, will honor the bargain..."
I stood up again and walked around the room like Rubia used to do when she was unsettled.
"Domine, you're a proud man and I whored in high circles. How do you think you'd feel when one of your male acquaintances recognises me?"
Marius Servilius Tibullus laughed again and his laugh was even sharper.
"Domina, I don't socialize with aristocrats. They consider themselves above merchants and the only thing that interests me about them is the size of their debts. And when they borrow money, I have my agents deal with them. I despise aristocrats, Domina. The only one I respect is Julius Caesar, for he brought my ancestors from Gaul as prisoners of war. If he hadn't done so, I'd have been born in a mud hut instead of a clean, Roman house."
His dispassionate comment about slavery gave me an unexpected opening.
"Do you have slaves?" I snapped.
"Many. At my villa and my shipyards."
"I'd never live in a place where slaves are kept!"
"I'm a fair master and every year I free those who are smart, loyal and work harder. I don't believe in abuse or mistreatment. My slaves know they can get their freedom if they work hard so they best themselves to be in the yearly list. And most of them
remain at my service even when they are freed..."
I remained in silence, staring at him. He shrugged. "All right," he said, "I'll free all the slaves at the villa as a wedding present to you. But I'll keep those in the shipyards. I won't tell you how to manage the household and you won't tell me how to manage
the shipyards. Now, can we set the date?"
I turned my back to him, while nervously hugging myself.
"Domine, it's useless! My freedom's recent. I only crave for an education..."
"No, Domina. You crave for another thing. You crave for revenge."
I flinched but didn't turn around to face him. He went on talking.
"Isn't revenge what all wronged men and women crave for, Domina?"

"Julia, you'll find someone someday. Someone very special."

Maximus' words echoed in my mind. He'd been right. And someone special was there, asking me to be his wife for good reasons but the expected ones.
Revenge.
I heard again the nauseating sound my dagger had made when I'd buried it in Cassius' neck. The revolting vibration run up my arm once more. I felt the warm, sticky blood flow from the wound and splash my hand. I heard Cassius' head fall on the desk
with a muffled thud.
Revenge.
Revenge from Cassius. From Marcellus. From the senator. From everyone of the countless men whose faces I couldn't distinguish yet haunted me. The countless men who'd soiled me. Used me. Hurt me. Humiliated me. Revenge from slavery. From whoring. From hopelessness. From rejection.
"There's nothing wrong about it, Domina", he went on. "Marry me and have your revenge. I'll make you a powerful woman, so powerful that even if you meet again one of those men, he'd be scared to admit he knew you, much less to gloat about it. You crave for an education, so look at our marriage as an education of sorts... an education in power. When I'm gone, you'll be free to do whatever you want with your life and legacy. And your revenge."
I shuddered.
"You are young and smart and beautiful, Domina. You deserve to be admired. To be cared for. To be pampered," he said in a low, seductive voice. "You deserve to be happy. To be loved, even if I'm not the chosen one to love you and make you happy.
But, most of all, you deserve to be avenged..."
I didn't need to turn around to know he was smiling. He'd got me. He knew it.
"Only the emperor can give you more, Domina. But he cannot marry you..." He wasn't bragging for bragging is below such a self confident man.
"Take me as your husband, Julia, and have your revenge ..."

I turned around and I locked my eyes with his cold, unreadable ones. Slowly I returned to my chair and sat down. He went on talking casually.
"We'll mostly live in Ostia. I believe you'll find the villa comfortable enough yet you're welcome to introduce the changes you consider necessary. We'll keep separate apartments and I'll order iron bolts to be put in yours. They won't be necessary but
they'll make you feel more at ease. You may go on studying as much as you want provided it doesn't interfere with your duties towards me. Your Greek tutor is welcome to live at the villa if he wants to move to Ostia and you can hire any other teacher you want. You'll be provided with whatever you want or need. My ships bring into Italia all kind of merchandise and I have first pick on any cargo so you'll have it too. You'll also have access to my bankers and you'll deal with the house accounts. I'll free all the house slaves on your behalf so they'll serve you loyally."

While he went on listing the points of what was going to be our personal agreement I felt as if time had ceased to exist. Without saying the word I'd consented to bond myself to a virtual stranger. I'd consented to become someone's wife. I'd consented for my life to change again. To change forever.
"I accept your word about not being interested at the moment in any man but you're young and sooner or later you'll change your mind. I won't object provided you don't take a lover among my business acquaintances and you're discreet. In case you
get pregnant, I'll claim the child as mine."
A lover? There was only a man to whose bed I'd willingly go. Yet there was no place in his bed for me. And I wanted revenge for that too.
"The marriage contract will be sent to you tomorrow for your approval..."
I stood up. Suddenly, I needed to get out of the room. To be by myself. I nodded to the man I'd soon call "husband" and turned around to go.
"Just one more thing, Domina."
Marius Servilius' voice stopped me at the threshold.
"What name must be written in the document? I know your name but not the patronymic you go by."
I slowly turned around.
"Julia Antonina, Domine" I said flatly. "After the emperor."

We married a month later. As both of us were adults with no family, ours was a simple wedding. The ceremony was performed at Marius Servilius' apartment, in front of the mandatory witnesses and his household. Apollinarius was there, of course. The news had shocked him badly.
"I can't believe you're doing this, Julia!" he said. "Why? Why in Hades are you marrying this man you don't even know? Not for the money, I'm sure. Then, why? WHY?"
"Because I'm tired, Apollinarius. Because I suddenly discovered that I'm so very tired and I want to know if I can belong somewhere..."
"There has to be something more, Julia! There has to..."
He stopped in mid sentence and looked at me with bewildered, then saddened eyes. He knew. He always did.
"It's my fault," he whispered. I went to him, tried to take his face in my hands. He avoided me. "Apollinarius, no..."
"It's my fault!" he repeated in a strangled voice. "If I'd have insisted that you met more people, that you socialised more instead of selfishly keeping you for myself, you'd have found a man who'd love you as you deserve to be loved..."
"No!" I didn't want to hear about loving and being loved. I couldn't. Not now.
"If I'd been a real man and not what I am..."
"NO!"
I grabbed his shoulders and shook him hard. "No!" I repeated. "It's not your fault that I was born a slave and made into a whore! It's not your fault that you cannot love me like a man loves a woman! It's not your fault that I hurt and I'm bitter and I'll
always be! I've come to accept it, Apollinarius! I've come to accept that deep inside I'll always hurt and be bitter and lonely and sad! He showed it to me and marrying him is my way to come to terms with it!"
Apollinarius bowed his head till his forehead touched mine. We remained like this for a long moment. "I'm gonna need you more than ever. Will you come to Ostia and go on teaching me?" I whispered. He smiled a small, sad smile.
"Of course I'll go. I'm not letting you out of my sight", he said. It was my turn to smile. Then, I slid my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder. His arms came around my waist and he pressed me against his lean body. I closed my eyes and sighed. Every day and every night since Moesia I'd craved for Maximus strong, muscled arms. I'd craved for his passionate embrace. For the heat and strength of his god-like body. Yet, at that moment, I didn't want any other's embrace than
Apollinarius' loving but passionless one.

I dressed for the wedding ceremony at my apartment, the first real home I'd ever had and which I'd soon leave behind. Nicia found me a hairdresser and the woman brushed my waist long hair, then coiled it artfully, as it befitted the married woman I was soon to be. She praised my mane and tried to make small talk but I only answered in monosyllables as my eyes remained fixed in the polished mirror and she was soon reduced to silence. The woman wanted to apply make up to my face but I refused. Nicia helped me put on the yellow silk bridal gown, the saffron wedding shoes and the set of jewels Marius Servilius had sent me the previous day. When I was ready, she and the hairdresser arranged on my head the saffron colored, silk bridal veil. I walked down the stairs escorted by my maid, who'd dressed for the occasion in her best finery. A servant awaited at Marius Servillius' door and opened it to admit us. Once inside, I was received by Athenodorus, Nicia's husband and Marius Servilius' steward, who guided me to the inner garden and announced in a booming voice "The bride! The bride!"
The guests gathered at the garden turned around to look at me, and saw a tall, mysterious woman none of them had ever met, hidden behind a heavy saffron veil. They were Marius Servilius' business acquaintances and their wives. The servants were also there, dressed for the occasion and crowned with fragrant garlands of verbena. There was also the priest and his assistant and there were flowers around the neck of the piglet which was to be the mandatory sacrifice to the gods. Marius Servilius was standing by the priest, a tall, elegant figure dressed in an immaculate toga worth of a consul. The guests looked at me in silence for a long moment. Then, someone started singing the ancient wedding hymn: "Io, hymen, hymenaeus..."
Apollinarius detached himself from the group and came to me. He took my hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. Then, acting as the bride's father, he guided me towards Marius Servilius. It was highly irregular yet there was nothing regular about
the wedding of a bride who'd been a whore and whose dowry had been deemed unnecessary by her groom.

The priest intoned the prayers and accepted the knife from his assistant. He was skilful and, mercifully, the sacrifice was quickly over. He plundered his hands in the piglet's steaming entrails and pronounced the auspices to be favorable. Marius Servilius offered me an arched eyebrow and a twisted, ironic smile. Then, he turned to the priest and intoned his vows:
"Ubi tu Gaia, ego Gaius. (*) Where I am master, you will be mistress..."
He spoke in a clear, calm voice. Then, it was my turn and my voice was equally clear and calm:
"Ubi tu Gaius, ego Gaia. (**) Where you are master, I will be mistress..."
It was over soon. Marius Servilius produced the wedding rings and slid one in the middle finger of my left hand. It was a heavy, profusely carved, golden ring. I slid the matching one in his thin, pale finger. Suddenly, I saw in my mind another hand and
another ring. A big, strong, tanned, sword callused hand adorned with a simple, silver ring. A ring that proclaimed the blue eyed, ruggedly handsome Roman general I loved was another woman's...
Somebody raised my veil. Nicia, acting like the mother I'd never known and longed so much for, another irregularity in a wedding celebrated for powerful reasons but the usual, expected, normal ones. The saffron haze that had surrounded me and hid me was replaced by the bright sun of early spring. I heard a collective murmur as the guests finally saw my face, the face of a beautiful nineteen years old girl who'd had no childhood and craved for a doll. The face of a lonely, sad whore who craved
for her stolen innocence. The face of a woman desperately in love who craved for the man who had rejected her. The face of a woman who'd married another to get revenge for all of these. I looked at the guests one by one and saw in their faces what I always saw in other people's faces. What I knew I'd find. Open admiration and barely concealed lust in the men's. Wariness and barely concealed jealousy in the women's. Certain things never change. Not even with marriage.
Marius Servillius bowed and kissed me formally on both cheeks. Someone started singing again. "Io, hymen, hymenaeus..."
We were man and wife.

After the ceremony there was the expected banquet. It was formal and subdued, not the raucous event wedding parties frequently turn out to be. There was excellent food and equally excellent wine served by efficient, silent servants and discreet music performed by equally silent and able musicians. The talking was mostly business and politics and there was not the usual teasing and crude jokes. I sat by Marius Servilius and accepted the good wishes of the guests who came one by one to make their acquaintance. I ate little and drank less as I carefully avoided both Marius Servilius' scrutinizing eyes and Apollinarius' worried ones.
The servants lit the lamps before passing around the desserts and shortly after the guests stood up and readied themselves to depart. As we'd married at the groom's home, there was not to be a bridal procession but we were showered with wheat grain
and raisings to ensure the blessing of the gods and the fertility of our union. I accepted the good wishes and parting greetings with an unreadable face and silently kissed Apollinarius' soft cheek with cold, numbed lips. Nicia gently touched my arm, then guided me to my bedroom.

It was a big room, open to the inner garden, furnished with expensive pieces of furniture and Eastern carpets and profusely adorned with flowers. Fragrant woods burned at the brazier, keeping at bay the nightly cold. A flimsy nightgown and a silk robe were ready on a couch and rose petals had been showered on the upturned bed covers. The promised iron lock was in place.
Nicia helped me off my bridal garments and jewels, then dressed me for the night. With deft hands, she uncoiled my hair and brushed it, rubbed some of my favorite perfume -- myrrh -- on my neck and arms, then picked up the pins and combs, my
dress and veil and biding me goodnight left the room.
Little by little, the big apartment fell silent. The torches in the courtyard burned off. I remained sitting in the chair where Nicia had left me, my hands primly folded on my lap, the same way I'd remained sitting at Cassius' tent when Maximus had left me
there with three dead men, it seemed a lifetime ago. At that time, I'd looked at the dead face of my master and tormentor for a long, long time. Now, my eyes were fixed on the iron bolt yet I didn't get up and locked the door. There was no need. I knew
Marius Servilius would honor his promise. And I also knew that if he'd wanted me, there was no bolt strong enough in the whole empire to keep him away.
I'd married a man who neither loved me nor desired me. I'd been the plaything of many men who lusted after me, used me and discarded me with no second thought. I'd fallen in love with a man who'd cared for me, desired me, could even have come to love me... yet rejected me. I'd married Marius Servilius to get myself avenged from all of them. A perfect circle. An iron one. A circle which suddenly felt as cold and as empty as my own wedding night.
Shuddering, I closed my eyes while I hugged myself tightly. With an ease born of long practice, I let myself go deeper and deeper inside me. When I was a girl growing up at Cassius' villa and loneliness became unbearable, I closed my eyes, hugged
myself tightly and went inside me. I went to a place where I was not alone. Where I was not sad or afraid. Where I had a loving, smiling mother who cared for me, played with me, comforted me, hugged me to her fragrant bosom. At this place I was
not a slave but a cherished, pampered, loved child.
When I grew up and the ugliness of whoring became too much, I closed my eyes, hugged myself and went even deeper inside me. I went to a place where men couldn't paw me and use me and discard me. A place where I was free. Where I was respected. Where I was proud, powerful, untouchable. A place where I was the woman I'd become the moment I married Marius Servilius.

That night I went even deeper. I went to a place where I was not cold and lonely. Little by little, darkness was replaced by light as cold was replaced by warmth. I was in a bedchamber. Not a luxurious one like the one I've been assigned but a cozy, rustic, colorful one. The furniture was comfortable, solid and simple, the kind used in rural villas and wealthy farms. The stone walls where whitewashed instead of covered with elaborate murals. The floor was polished wood, covered with carpets that had been woven for warmth instead of luxury. The lamps bathed the chamber in a dim, gold light. There was no burning brazier for the Spanish spring night was balmy and instead of rose petals, there were jasmine ones on the bedcovers of the huge marital bed.
I heard a faint click as the door opened at my back. Slowly I turned around to face the man I'd married just a few hours ago. The man I loved as you only love once. The man I was anxious to have him claim me as his wife.
He was standing there, dressed in a wine red robe made of fine wool, silently looking at me. Without a word, I unclasped my own robe and let it fall. The white silk whispered and sensually caressed my naked body as it slid down. I heard him gasp at the sight of my bare body and he mirrored my movement, unclasping his robe and letting it fall... It was my turn to gasp at the glorious sight of his own, naked, male beauty. My eyes devoured his broad, strong shoulders, the bronzed expanse of his
powerful chest dusted with hair a lighter shade than his beard. I gloried in his heavily muscled arms and legs and shuddered in anticipation at the sight of his proud, straining manhood.
Moving in unison, we came together. Moving in unison we went into each other's arms. In unison we gasped when our bare bodies touched for the first time. There was no hesitation, only hunger and need. Our mouths came together as we pressed and
arched against each other till every hollow and every curve fit perfectly against the other's and we were as close as man and woman can be without coupling. We moaned into each other's mouth, our tongues entwined in a hot, sensuous dance. We
throbbed. We burned. Soon, touching and caressing was not enough. We fell on the bed, crushing the jasmine petals, the heat of our bodies intensifying their sweet, sensuous perfume. Maximus' beard tickled my fevered, sensation crazed skin as he used his lips and tongue on me and I moaned uncontrollably. And when he used his fingers to test me for readiness, I knew I was untouched. Pure. A maiden. Not a slave. Not a whore. My virginity not stolen from me but to be given to my husband. A
woman worth to be his wife. A woman who'd give him sons and daughters to perpetuate his proud name. A woman who'd know no other man but him. Univira(***), as a decent Roman woman must be.
He was throbbing against my belly, his breath heavy, his need as raging as mine yet he hesitated, unwilling to overpower me to satiate his hunger. His blue-green eyes burned with passion and need, his beautiful, sweet, sensuous mouth set hard by the
effort to control his body.
"Julia ...", he said and his deep, rumbling voice had my body erupt in goose bumps, as it caressed my ears and vibrated in his chest. I touched his ruggedly handsome, tanned, bearded face. I slid my hands into his short, dark hair.
"Yes, husband!" I breathed as I arched against him. "Oh, yes..."
Husband...
He made me his.
I cried at the brief, piercing pain and he devoured my cry as a ravenous man devours sustenance, while his body set the manly rhythm and mine instinctively rocked to help him get deeper. To help myself take him deeply. To allow the two of us become
one...

My eyes snapped open. The sounds coming from my mouth were not the blissful, sobbing moans of the woman beneath Maximus' body but the dry, anguished sobs of the lonely woman I really was. They were muffled not by his hot, demanding mouth but by the cold, clammy hands I pressed against mine. My ragged breath was not the consequence of the feverish coupling with the only man I ever loved but of my desperate effort to regain control.
Eventually, I succeeded. And when it happened, I buried my face in my hands as I'd done when Maximus had left me alone in the alcove after showing me what passion, real passion is. But unlike that night in Moesia, this time I didn't weep. I simply
remained there. Immobile. Cold. Empty. Alone.

(*) "When and where you are Gaia, I then and there are Gaius."
(**) "When and where you are Gaius, I then and there are Gaia."
(***) Univira: In Latin, "A woman who knows intimately only one man along her life." What a decent Roman matron was expected to be.

Sixth Entry - The Ostian Years - A.D. 175-176

The carriage took a wide turn and Marius Servilius briefly raised his eyes from the dictation tablet he was correcting. "We're close," he said and started packing his writing tools. We'd departed for Ostia two days after the wedding ceremony. I travelled beside my husband in his roomy and comfortable carriage. He'd had a desk built in it in order to spend the tedious hours any trip demands dealing with his correspondence and other documents. As he'd said, he didn't like wasting time. And as for me, I'd been too busy dealing with an upset Rubia to be able to read more than a few paragraphs of the scroll I'd selected. She was now a full sized adult, a huge feline with a shinny, colorful coat and wary, enigmatic green eyes. Since the preparations for my wedding and moving to Ostia had started, Rubia had been clearly upset, another proof that cats are more sensible than human beings. They appreciate the advantages of a quiet life and don't jump recklessly into wild adventures. And, if they want revenge, they simply use their claws.
Marius Servilius had made no comment about the presence of my three colored, four legged companion. He'd simple offered both Rubia and me an amused look before busying himself with whatever it meant to run a business.

We travelled along the Via Ostiensis, another wide, well paved and better kept via romana, so the trip was smooth and quicker than I had expected. Apollinarius, Nicia, Athenodorus -who was to take the place of the villa's steward as the ageing
man had been offered retirement- and Marius Servilius' secretaries followed us in another carriage. The luggage train had been dispatched the day before to allow the servants deal with it in advance. My own luggage had been embarrassingly increased by numerous chests filled with the best silk, linen, wool and Egyptian cotton money could buy, not to mention sandals and shoes, scarves and cloaks, perfumes and cosmetics beyond any woman's wildest dreams. The jewels to match my new wardrobe travelled with me in two lacquered coffers. When I tried to protest, Marius Servilius simply shrugged and said it was but an advancement of what I could expect when certain ships docked at Ostia. Then, he matter-of-factly reminded me that I was
now a wealthy man's wife and thus expected to look the part.

We passed the huge pillars marking the entrance to the estate and started up a curved, cobbled lane that was edged by tall, dark green, healthy vegetation. At regular intervals, there were iron stands for torches. As the carriage advanced smoothly and
noiselessly I was not surprised to hear the purring of the surf or to sniff a slightly salty smell. Nicia had already told me that the villa opened to the sea. The carriage rounded one last curve and stopped...
I gasped. Under the last light of the sun, the magnificent villa shone in shades of pink and gold yet there was no possible doubt that it'd gleam white either in the sunlight or the moonlight for it was covered in polished Carrara marble. It was two stories high and curved with a continuous portico along the front to shade the rooms from the blazing sun. The portico was supported by white marble columns and between each pair of them there was a life size marble statue of a gracefully-draped goddess. A large terrace opened off a corner room on the upper floor. In the middle of the building there was a perfect dome. At the entrance there was a lush even if
not imaginative garden, adorned with a reflecting pool and gurgling fountains, bordered by a decorative colonnade and marble benches. There were big gold fish in the pool and the biggest fountain sported the familiar marble ship. The others were
adorned either with delicate yet sensuous sirens or well muscled, equally sensuous tritons.

Many servants were awaiting for us at the entrance of the house, men and women cleanly dressed and well groomed, a blur or faces and clothes and colours and features. All heads bowed respectfully when Marius Servilius descended from the carriage. He offered me his hand and helped me down and, as he did, I suddenly realized that it was the first time I'd touched him. Realization must have shown in my face for his reflected a slight amusement. Then, he placed my hand on his forearm and walked towards his servants with me by his side, a trial of sorts, my first public appearance as his wife.
"This is the Lady Julia," he casually addressed the servants. "She's my wife and thus the mistress of this house. Her word's the law that will rule it from now on. It's to her generosity that you owe your early freedom. You've served me well and loyally.
Serve her as you served me and I'll be doubly pleased."
The servants raised their eyes, looking at me with a mix of curiosity and awe.
They'd probably expected an old matron, someone closer to their master's age. Or perhaps a dumb creature who had no sense of propriety and had demanded from her husband that he freed his slaves instead of adding her own to their ranks, for house slaves have their own standards and when fate places them in rich households some can be even more snobbish than their masters. Instead they were confronted with a nineteen-years-old, red-gold haired girl who not so long ago had been a servant like them even if one of a different kind. I didn't know what to do or if I was expected to do something so I did nothing but nod slightly towards them. All heads bowed again and even deeper.
Marius Servilius walked towards the villa's double front doors and even if he didn't look at me I knew he was pleased with my dignified performance.
I, instead, felt like a perfect idiot.

Inside, the building was as magnificent as outside. We entered a huge, two-story octagonal-shaped atrium that was topped by a full dome with an opening in the middle to allow light to enter the massive space. The rays of the dying sun flooded the elaborate, geometric-patterned, black and white mosaic floor. The dome was supported by more fluted, white marble columns that formed a large circle in the middle section of the atrium. Torches and lanterns were ready against the walls beyond the colonnade, where heavily carved oak doors opened. Between the doors there were alcoves containing more full-size marble statues. The atrium opened at one end onto a courtyard full of flowering shrubs where I could see even more fountains. By its far end, another wing of the villa was visible.
Marius Servilius stopped. "You'll be shown your apartment, Domina," he said as he released my hand. "I trust you'll find it comfortable enough. Many things claim my attention and you're tired. I'll see you tomorrow for breakfast at the perystile if weather is fine. If not, we'll meet at my studio." This said, he bowed, turned around and went away, followedby his secretaries.

Two maids appeared from nowhere and guided Nicia and me towards one of the carved oak doors, opened it and stood aside to allow us get into the wide corridor that ended in gently curving marble stairs. Before climbing it, I couldn't but turn towards Apollinarius seeking for support at this massive, temple-size house. But my tutor -- who was carrying Rubia -- had stopped to admire an exquisite life-size statue. Nicia gently tugged at his toga to bring him back to reality and he blushed like a boy caught
admiring an erotic fresco.
At the top of the stairs there was another door and beyond it the private apartment that was to be my sanctuary. There was a large and elegantly furnished sitting room that opened onto the terrace that I'd seen from the garden. Around the room there were three other oak doors. One opened to a big, comfortable, luxuriously
furnished bedroom with a huge, canopied bed and it's adjoined, complete bath. Another, to a smaller room which also opened to the terrace where I found a desk, some chairs, a reading couch and various armoires and chests. The older maid explained that, originally, it had been a sewing and weaving room for the lady of the house but the master had ordered it refurbished as a private studio where I could read and write. The third door opened to a second, smaller, windowless bedroom. The walls were covered in pastoral murals and the ceiling was painted like the sky. It also had an adjoined, complete bathroom. I didn't need the maid to tell me this was a room for an infant and his or her nurse.
A room doomed to remain as empty as my womb.

There was a small commotion at the terrace. From the second bedroom I heard
the noise of a flower pot falling and breaking and Apollinarius gasp. Grateful
for an excuse to leave that doomed room, I hurried into the open air.
When I crossed the archway separating the sitting room from the terrace, I saw
the reason of my tutor's undignified behaviour... and I couldn't but gasp myself: the terrace opened over the sea, a ribbon of golden sand clearly visible
beyond the trees and beyond the sand... the infinite blue of the Tyrrhenian so deep under the early evening light that it seemed indigo. In awe, I walked
towards the carved marble rail and silently stood by Apollinarius.
"Thalasa (*)," he said in such a low voice that I could barely hear the word.
"You missed the sea." It was not a question. He smiled wanly.
"Till this moment, I'd never noticed how much," he said and then added, "Thank you, Julia. Thank you for bringing me back to the sea!"
I didn't need to see his eyes to know they were full of tears.

The following morning, it dawned cloudy and windy so I met Marius Servilius at his studio in the ground floor. Even if we'd been married for a few days, I already knew his routine. My husband was an early riser who liked to start working ahead of his
own household. He dealt with his correspondence when it was still dark, then took his daily bath. Breakfast had already been set by the time he came out dressed for the day and as soon as he finished eating it, his secretaries were admitted in the studio.
They worked together for a couple of hours. Then, the three of them went away in their daily errands. He never came back for lunch. He always came back before dusk. We met for dinner and made small talk. Then, he bid me good night and returned to
his studio. Even if I turned down my lamps late after reading for an hour or two, it was still much later when I heard his footsteps as he returned to his rooms.

His studio at the villa was big an comfortable as it befitted the place where he spent most of his time. There were couches and chairs, a massive desk, stools for his secretaries, shelves for documents and even a strong box. Beautiful murals decorated the walls, all of them showing maritime scenes. Several models of ships were placed on the shelves. There was also one on top of his desk, an exquisitely detailed model of a vessel I immediately recognized: it was the same one that graced the fountains in
Rome and at the villa's garden.
Breakfast had been set on a small table beside the couch in which my husband was sitting with the ever present dictation tablets and stylus. He left them aside when he saw me. I remained looking at the ship on his desk.
"This is the 'Poseidon', the ship that started the fleet," said Marius Servilius. "I had it built when I was sixteen."
"I thought it was your grandfather who'd started the business," I said as I walked towards the chair set by the breakfast table.
"He started the importing business and did well. My father inherited and expanded it but I wanted to go beyond. I wanted us to have our own ships," said Marius Servilius. He paused for a moment, then continued. "I tried to convince him to get into the
shipping business but he said it was too risky and expensive and, most of all, it'd demand time he didn't have. So I told him I'd supervise the building. My father was shocked. I was barely out of my toga praetexta and even if it was accepted that I was
going into the business and be very good at it, building a ship was something completely different."
As he talked, Marius Servilius picked up some cheese and bread.
"I insisted. Oh, I wanted so much to have a ship! A light, speedy one. So finally my father agreed, put me in charge and braced himself for the loses... I had it in the water a month ahead of the scheduled time and shortly after I brought to Ostia my first
shipment of olive oil. I arrived ahead of other importers and made my first money. A small fortune, by the way."
My husband offered me a smile, not his cold, usual one but genuine one.
"My father took me as his partner and nobody treated me again as a boy."
"Is the 'Poseidon' still afloat? I mean..." I knew nothing about ships but the fact that they travelled on water and that I was terrified of it.
"Yes, Domina. It's still around. It was luckier than other ships I built or bought. But it has been retired because it's too old to go on sailing."
"You keep it here, in Ostia?"
"Yes, in a dry dock. If it had remained in the water, it'd have ended up being eaten by wood worms. Neither the seas nor the storms could humble it so I didn't want my old boy to die such an undignified death. Besides, the 'Poseidon' still has to perform
one more service for me..."
"You plan to put it afloat again?" I asked. The conversation was oddly interesting. Marius Servilius smiled again but this time it was a bitter smile.
"No, Domina. I won't put it afloat but it has one more journey to do..."
I arched my eyebrow quizzically.
"When I die, I want to be burned at the beach. The 'Poseidon' will provide the wood for the funeral pyre. It will be more than enough..."
I blanched. "Domine..." He made a gesture to stop me.
"You will be in charge of the funeral, so you must know my wishes. I want to be burned. I don't agree with this awful, new Roman fashion about burials. I don't want to be eaten by worms. Neither a ship nor a man deserve such fate."
There was a long silence. He had ate very little, mostly toyed with his food.
"Domina, when I'm in residence in Ostia I'm even more busy than when in Rome. I won't be seeing you usually for breakfast for I use to go to the harbour, warehouses and shipyards very early in the morning."
He turned and took a piece of papyrus he'd left on the couch.
"The news about me taking a wife had already spread and my associates and other commercial relations are anxious to meet you. It'll be easier if we invite them in groups for dinner than if they start calling by themselves."
He handed me the papyrus. It was a list. I quickly counted fourteen names.
"These are the guests we should receive in first term. I've set the date in a week time. You will have to take care of the reception."
He had already stated that I was expected to manage the household and the estate and take care of his dinner parties. But I hadn't expected to have to do it so soon. Somehow, I managed to keep my voice firm.
"And what are your instructions for the reception, Domine?"
He waved his thin hand dismissing the question.
"I'm sure whatever you choose will be fine. I trust you completely."
"Why me?" I asked in a small voice and we both knew I was not talking about the dinner party but our marriage. Marius Servilius reclined in his couch.
"Because you have some rare virtues. For example, you know how to listen and how to learn. Because you have common sense and no lack of courage. Because you are smart and independent. And because you want revenge."
He looked at me with his steely gaze then went on talking.
"When I was a boy, before I proved myself to be a businessman, my father wanted me to be an educated man. He had even contemplated buying social advancement for me. He could have easily bought himself a place among the equestian rank yet he
was shy despite all his money. He thought that the son of a former slave was too close to the auction block to have the right to ascend in the Roman society's scaffold and kept the honour for me," said my husband in his usual matter-of-factly tone. "But I wanted no social advancement, no place in the rows of a group of men who didn't want the grandson of a slave among them. I wanted to succeed but not mere success: I wanted it in my own terms and by my own rules. You want the same, Domina.
That's why."
There was nothing for me to say. Nothing to add. He was right. I wanted to succeed and I wanted revenge. But, most of all I wanted Maximus. And I couldn't have him. So I wanted revenge even more.
"As I told you, Domina, marrying me you have acquired a job. A well paid one but also a very hard one. Yet I trust you to enjoy it even if it's not easy. You are that kind of woman," he added as he took his stylus and wax tablets. "It will take some time for you to learn how to properly deal with the household and the estate and in the future we'll talk about some things I want you to do for me, like redesigning the gardens. I've wanted to do it for years but never had the time. I want them to be magnificent. When you are in business, your house is but an extension of it and entertaining part of the job."
I nodded and silently rolled the papyrus containing the guests' list.
"Once you've managed the household and the estate, I'll teach you about my business."
I was aghast. "Pardon me?" I managed to babble.
"Domina, you are to be my heir and I don't know how much time I have left. Not enough, for sure. You cannot expect to have a business this size dropped on your lap and not know what to do with it."
"I-I thought there would be agents and other people to deal with it..."
"There are and there will be but if you don't take an active part in it, you cannot expect but to be cheated or betrayed."
"I'm scared of ships!" I blurted. "I'm scared of water! I cannot swim!"
"Domina, you will be expected to deal with ships from the safety of a desk, not a deck. But swimming lessons can be easily arranged. There's a big pool in the property and even a secluded fish pond if you want more privacy..."
"No!" About a year before a ruggedly handsome Roman general had promised the red gold haired, drugged, scared slave and whore I'd been to teach her how to swim. Yet he'd been simply humouring her and left her while she slept her misery away.
The free, educated, wealthy woman I'd become also wanted revenge for this.
"I know nothing about business..." I protested.
"You'll learn and you'll enjoy it because it will mean dealing with men who don't want to deal with a woman. So you will have to set your rules and stick to them. That is why it's you and not other."
Nervously I turned my wedding ring around my middle finger. Marius Servilius briefly eyed the water clock on a nearby table.
"Now, Domina, if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting. I'll see you at dinner."
I raised and nodded at him again then turned around to leave. That was when I saw it. A life size, marble bust of a young woman placed on a plain yet exquisite column. Her face was round and placid, her hair coiled in a simple bun, her mouth full
and sweet. She looked both serene and happy, something unusual for a statue. The bust was surrounded by rose petals, a respectful funereal offer for a loved one. "She's Pollia Sabina Marcia," said Marius Servilius at my back. "She was my wife." He didn't add that he'd loved her and he still did. It was not necessary. It shouldn't have minded me. Oddly, it did.

"It's useless, Apollinarius! I'll never be able to do it!"
My tutor raised his eyes from the papyrus he was inspecting and sighed.
"Julia, you used to say the same about Greek and nowadays your accent can rival even mine!"
We were at the private studio in my apartment, a place where I could retreat to read and write and, if I had time and stamina enough, take my lessons, away from the incessant whereabouts of a legion-sized household. I kept another studio at the ground floor, directly beside my husband's. It was at that other, more public place that I sat down every morning to manage -- or at least try to manage -- the household and estate. Three months had passed since my first and successful dinner party and more
receptions and even a banquet had taken place along them. Now I was agonizing over the house accounts and books. And, as usually, I'd turned to Apollinarius for help.

"This is different! Completely different! I'll never, ever be able to do it!"
"Julia, as far as I can remember, you saved the purple cushion for the current
imperial buttocks so dealing with the house accounts cannot be more difficult... Or dangerous! Not even in a house this size."
I frowned at his irony. "Don't be disrespectful with the emperor!" I said in
an indignant tone. He offered me no answer but an amused look.
"I'm serious! Don't you like Marcus Aurelius?"
"Oh, I'd like him a lot more if he wasn't an emperor!"
"You're a republican?" I asked in a low, scandalised voice.
Apollinarius laughed. "No, Julia. I'm Greek! Greeks and emperors don't get
together well. We invented democracy!"
"Don't be silly!" I retorted. "Greece was Romanized two centuries ago!"
"Now don't you be silly, Julia", he answered patiently. "Syria was Romanized. Spain was Romanized. Even Britannia will be in due time. Greece is Greece and will always be. Roman emperors come and go. Greece remains."
"Oh." It was but a small sound. I couldn't think of anything else to say.
"By the way, your Marcus Aurelius is indeed a fine man. He's decent and
educated. And smart! Otherwise he'd not have survived so long around the
Palatine, even if the Antoninii are not a traitorous, murderous bunch like the
Claudians were. What worries me is his lack of action about his heir..."
"He has a surviving son ..."
Along the years, the imperial couple had lost many of their children.
"His youngest and, for what I've heard, not exactly fit for the purple." Apollinarius had friends everywhere. If he'd heard disturbing news about the heir apparent, he'd heard them from a reliable source.
"If he becomes emperor, he'll be the first one since Nero to have been raised in
the Palatine... And the Palatine either spoils the imperial kids or kills them..." I
shuddered at the thought. Not even former slaves like to be reminded about certain men who sported the golden laurel wreath.
"I'm not implying Commodus is another Nero but I've been told he has no talent for politics... even if he loves power and the idea of becoming emperor," he said. "It seems his father's brains have all gone to his sister Lucilla."
I flinched at the name of the woman who'd loved Maximus and been offered
to him in marriage. The woman who'd have been his key to political power and perhaps even the throne. Yet he'd refused to divorce his farmer wife and rejected her like he'd rejected me. The emperor was right: his daughter and I had much in common. I frowned even deeper. In those days, I was so busy that I didn't even have much time to think about Maximus. And when I noticed it, I felt like a traitor. Towards whom -him or myself- I didn't know.
"Anyway, returning to your current problem, Julia, what you need is a secretary..." went on my tutor, for once unaware of my inner turmoil.
"Are you suggesting that I must add even more people to this legion-size household?" I asked indignantly. Apollinarius smiled.
"What I'm suggesting, Julia, is that I'll take a leave of absence as your tutor
and become your secretary for the time being."
I was aghast. "My secretary? You want to be my secretary? You're crazy!"
"With due respect, Domina, I'm not the one who married the wealthy shipbuilder and got us into this problem!"
I scowled. Apollinarius beamed.
"But I must admit, lady, coming here with you was a good deal. The house is
wonderful, the baths are great and I'd forgotten how nice it is to live by the sea. Besides, your man not only has money but taste, his cooks are excellent and his library simply amazing..."
"He must have bought all the stuff as some kind of investment! He never reads!" I growled, trying to hide the turmoil and embarrassment Apollinarius' selflessness always unleashed inside me.
"Well, he made a wonderful investment. Now, as your secretary, I'll deal with the bills and prepare the letters of payment for you to sign ..."

Apollinarius was right: dealing with the house accounts was not as hard as saving the empire. But it was close. Very close.

"I don't know why he has to offer so many banquets," I complained to the infinitely patient Apollinarius.
"Simply, my dear: he wants to show off his beautiful wife. Any man in his place would do the same."
I'd been married to Marius Servilius for more than a year and we were sitting side by side on the reading couch I kept at my terrace, under a stripped awning while studying diagrams and drinking cooled apple juice in a quiet, early summer afternoon. In the past months, I'd learned and perfected the necessary skills to manage the luxurious estate by the sea and become the efficient house mistress my husband expected me to be. I'd even discovered that I could put to good use some of the skills I'd learned in my previous life: how to always be in control, how to anticipate people's needs and tastes, how to be polite and graceful yet alluringly mysterious. But, what was even more important, I'd learned to enjoy being fully in charge. I'd learned to accept the challenge, the responsibilities and the success. My husband never praised me for my triumphs but politely thanked me for every successful reception I organized, every entertainment I provided, every change I introduced, every nicety I added. And, when something didn't work as well as it was supposed to work, he never critizised me or demanded apologies. Instead, he said, "Next time it will be better." My allowance made Marcus Aurelius look like a miser and was regularly increased by expensive presents which came to my apartment with appalling regularity. Yet, Marius Servilius never handed them personally but had them delivered by one of his secretaries, Nicia or Athenodorus, depending of the present's nature. And their nature couldn't be more varied for precious antiques were followed by exotic perfumes, luxurious silks by exquisite pieces of furniture,
invaluable manuscripts by an golden eyed, sandy colored Abyssinian cat and expensive jewels by uncommon glassware.

"Our marriage is old news, my friend. By now, I must have been introduced to half the merchants and shipbuilders and contractors of the empire..."
Marius Servilius wish to celebrate his birthday with a big banquet had arrived at a very inconvenient moment. I had finally found time to start redesigning the gardens and the task had turned out to be a formidable one. I've had a serious clash with the
original architect when he'd appeared at the villa with an army of slaves to tear the original garden down and level the ground before starting to rebuild and plant. I'd refused to admit the use of slaves in my home and the man had sneered and gone to my husband with his complaints. Marius Servilius never offered any help when I asked him for instructions but also didn't accept my authority to be challenged. He fired the architect before he could end up explaining the reason for our disagreement. When I'd tried to thank him for his support, he simply said: "You're my wife. A husband must respect his wife and make himself sure that others respect her too."
Firing the architect meant finding a new one and starting all over again. Now, the garden was midway its glorious restoration but undergoing the stage in which it looked more like a battlefield than a garden-to-be. And Marius Servilius' new banquet clashed with the gardening logistics. It clashed badly.
"Your marriage will never be old news, Julia," answered Apollinarius. "All these men would give an arm to ..."

He never completed the sentence. The apartment's door opened with a loud bang and we heard hurried footsteps in the sitting room. Apollinarius and I frowned in unison. Few servants were allowed into my sanctum and no one entered unannounced. My tutor stood up and went towards the archway but before he could reach it, a breathless Athenodorus burst into the terrace.
"Domina! The master! They've just brought him! He fainted at the harbour!"
I was on my feet in no time and running towards my husband's apartment on the other extreme of the corridor, followed by Apollinarius and the babbling steward, whose bad leg made it difficult for him to hurry.
"He hurt his head! And the physician's not at home!"
As I pushed open my husband's apartment's door, I vaguely noticed that it was the first time I'd crossed the threshold of his private rooms. The apartment was similar to mine and opened to a separate terrace. It was roomy and airy but more austerely furnished. Like his studio in the ground floor, it was decorated with murals depicting marine landscapes and ships and there were naval models on the tables. A life dedicated to importing and commerce was present in the many articles that graced the room, from Egyptian boxes to Tyrian glassware, tapestries that could only be Parthian and bronzes from Greece.

The two secretaries stood at the entrance of Marius Servilius' bedroom. heatedly arguing among themselves. I pushed them apart and entered the sleeping quarters. I saw my husband lying on the bed and his manservant, Phaedrus, working side by side
with a woman. They were undressing him.
"What happened? How's my husband?" I asked as I hurried towards them.
"He fainted, Lady Julia. I need to check him and make him comfortable."
The woman had talked without turning around and in the sibilant Greek spoken by Alexandrians. Yet, her features, plaited black hair and dress couldn't be more Egyptian. Her name was Merith, she was married to Marius Servilius' in residence physician and was a well known obstetrice, a femina medica (**) very much in demand. Many years before, Andreas had told me that in Ptolemaic Egypt women could educate themselves in the same way men do and follow professional careers. There were female lawyers and physicians and teachers and philosophers. Yet Romans had vanquished Queen Cleopatra and put an end to female education and independence, damning Egyptian women to their houses and weaving and child bearing as they'd done with their own decades before. Yet there were in Egypt women who still educated themselves, practising their art and their ancient faith. They were healers, midwives, wise women. Regarded as priestesses, they came from long, female lines and got their training from their mothers and grandmothers. Merith was one of them and her husband had refined her training beyond midwifery and healing herbs till she was as good a physician as him. The couple had come to the villa shortly before I married Marius Servilius. He'd discovered Sesostris -- a Romanized Egyptian -- while vainly searching for a cure for his sickness. The man had mentioned his interest in how medicine was practised at the Urbe and my husband had hired him and lodged him and his family in a secondary building at his seaside estate. As Marius Servilius had no objection about Merith practising her midwifery outside the villa, soon she was very much in demand thanks to the name she made for herself by successfully handling some difficult births. Sesostris and Merith were regularly invited to my husband's receptions but the woman seldom came, busy as she was with her practise and the training of her twin, twelve-years-old daughters who were to follow her steps.

I remained at the foot of the bed, intently looking at Marius Servilius but trying not to interfere with Merith and Phaedrus. He looked extremely pale, his always perfectly groomed silver hair fallen on his high forehead only half covering a purplish bruise.
Working quickly and efficiently, they took off his tunic and for the first time I saw my husband's undressed body. I felt shocked. Marius Servilius was a tall man, fit for his age and tanned by the many hours he spent in the harbour and shipyards. Besides, I'd always considered him handsome. But the heavy folds of his clothes and the lack of intimacy between us had hidden from me the fact that his illness had advanced. As he'd never been unwell since we married, I'd come to forget the fact that his days
were counted. Instead, I'd fell into the lulling routine and the household and estate had kept my mind away from the disturbing fact. But now, as I saw his ribcage painfully delineated against the tight skin of his chest, the silver body hair and the deepshades under his closed eyelids, I couldn't but feel dread.

"My husband is not here, Lady Julia," went on Merith. "He gave Lord Servilius his weekly check and found him alright. There was a shipment of medical supplies to be sent to the praetorian camp in the city's limits and your husband thought Sesostris
would like to take a look at their valetudinarium (***) and talk to the military surgeons..."
The Latin word sound incongruous among the Greek and for a moment I had difficulties to understand what Merith was talking about: my eyes were fixed on the bruises on my husband's hip and chest, which seemed to be growing and darkening under my fascinated gaze. Merith saw what I was looking.
"His blood is thinning, Lady Julia. It's a consequence of his illness. He fainted and hit himself. His blood vessels are very fragile and he's bleeding..."
I gasped. Merith looked at me briefly and decided I wasn't going to faint.
"The bleeding seems to be superficial but it's a serious alert about his condition," went on the Egyptian woman while she checked Marius Servilius pulse and lifted his eyelids. "When Sesostris checked him two days ago, he seemed weaker, as it was
to be expected, but fit..."
"W-Will he recover?" I asked and I could feel Apollinarius warm hand on my shoulder. Merith went on checking Marius Servilius. She sighed.
"He's a fighter. He won't go down easily..." her small, dark fingers explored my husband's neck and armpits. "He has inflamed nodes. There will be fever. I have to make him come around, stabilise him and be prepared for the fever."

As she spoke, Merith opened a wooden box and took off some small jars. She asked Phaedrus for water and started mixing some powders. She eyed me briefly. "Speak to him, Lady Julia. We need him to come around."
I obeyed on watery legs. I'm not easily scared. No woman who had killed in cold blood can be easily scared but this was different. This was safety and certainty and lulling routine being snatched from me again.
"D-Domine," I started, then stopped and took Marius Servilius' cold and clammy hand in mine. "D-Domine, please, wake up!"
I patted his hand to no avail. "Domine," I insisted. It's me! Please, wake up!"
Marius Servilius eyelids flew open, he moved his head from side to side.
"Sabina?" he groaned. "Sabina?"
The room became silent. I swallowed yet refused to look at the others. Instead, I forced myself to smile. "Yes, Domine," I said, "I'm here..."
Marius Servilius smiled faintly. Phaedrus helped Merith raise him enough to bring a cup to his pale lips but turned his face away.
I squeezed his hand.
"Domine, please, you have to drink. It'll make you feel better..."
He groaned again, then allowed Merith to give him the medicine, coughing twice, then falling heavily on Phaedrus' shoulder. The femina medica then ordered the manservant to cover him with a wool blanket despite the heat.
"The fever will come soon," she said. "Lady Julia, you better take care of those irritating men your husband call his secretaries and leave him to me."
I nodded absently. Apollinarius took me by my arm and gently guided me towards the door. As he did, I saw the statue which had been hidden from my sight by Merith's body. It was on a beautiful pedestal close to Marius Servilius' bed, a small, marble statue of a young Roman lady, sitting on a chair and hugging a baby to her breast. A highly unusual sculpture for the woman didn't look in to the horizon, dignified and aloof but her head was bowed over her child and she smiled at him while he raised his chubby hands towards his mother. There were rose petals around the statue. Rose petals for a long dead wife and a long dead son.
"I'll take care of everything and be back," I said.

Marius Servilius had praised my virtues yet I had some more he still haven't discovered. For instance, I'm good when it comes to crisis, as Maximus had learned in Moesia. So, once in the outer room, I dismissed all questions and started issuing orders without hesitation to the older secretary.
"Go back to the harbour and take care of whatever needs to be taken care of! If somebody asks about Lord Servilius' health, say he's got a sun stroke and needs rest! Don't allow anyone to know he's sick! He wouldn't want his competitors to know he's
in bad health! Business must go on as usual. You..."
I couldn't remember my husband's secretaries' names.
"Scribonianus," offered the younger one.
"Scribonianus, you go with Apollinarius and help him deal with messages for the guests who were to come to next week's banquet. Tell them it's been cancelled... No, tell them it's been postponed. Apollinarius will think of some plausible excuse. I don't want the news about Lord Servilius' health flying around. And I don't want him bothered! If you need directions, ask Apollinarius or me..."

It was a long night, the first of many I'd share with Merith and Phaedrus. Sometimes with Sesostris. Many times alone. Fever came and Marius Servilius fell into delirium. He sweat, he shivered, he rolled his head on the pillows, he called for Sabina. We
offered him as much comfort as we could: more blankets, fresh water, a damp cloth on his forehead, a reassuring squeeze of his hand. Every few hours, Merith mixed a powder she took from an ominously marked jar with water and forced him to drink it.
Not an easy task.

"Hecate's cure," she said answering to an unspoken question. "Powdered willow bark. Extremely bitter but good for the fever. In midwifery and children's sickness it can mean the difference between life and death..."
Merith bathed Marius Servilius fevered face once more then sat down again beside me. I'd already discovered that remaining up all night nursing the sick brings in a strange, unsettling intimacy.
"Lady Julia," she said suddenly, "I hope you don't mind that I took care of your husband personally instead of calling for a physician from Ostia. But, as my husband will be back soon and I know Lord Servilius' case ..."
"I'm thankful that you're here, Lady Merith. I'm sure he's in good hands..."
"I understand you knew about his heath when you married him," said Merith. For an instant I thought she was judging me, seeing the obvious, a young girl marrying a rich, sick man out of greed. But her dark, liquid eyes were soft and gentle. I nodded. "It was brave from you to accept him," she added.
"It's not fair," I said in a low voice, looking at Marius Servilius pale face. He looked older than his fifty four years and fragile as I'd never imagined he'd be.
"Sickness is never fair, Lady Julia. And death is even worst. Why do so many children die? Why does death claim a mother and leaves orphans behind? Why men kill each others in battle?" Merith shrugged. "We're but mortals, Lady Julia. But the
goddess is wise and she knows."
I frowned. The goddess. I'd never been religious even if I mentioned prayers and the gods routinely when the polite formulas demanded it. But I did it in the same mechanic way in which Marius Servilius attended his house altar and had his ships blessed before putting them to sail. My husband only trusted himself and I trusted no one but Maximus yet he was a world away.
Merith's goddess could not be other but Isis, the Egyptian deity which temple I'd seen in Ostia. For decades, Eastern cults had been crawling their way into Italia, gathering devotes among those disappointed with the official cult.
"Yes, Lady Julia, Mother Isis. She may not offer answers to our questions about what's fair or unfair, about life and death. But she gave me and others like me the skill to cure, so some lives can be spared and others can be brought in this world..."
Briefly, I raised my eyes and looked into Pollia Sabina Marcia's face, her loving, motherly smile frozen in eternity. Merith followed my gaze.
"We, women, are all but the goddess' children..."
Marius Servilius groan interrupted her. She went to him and checked his vital signs once more. Then, she turned to me and smiled.
"Mother Isis be blessed, the fever is over. He will recover."

Marius Servilius recovered, yes, and as soon as Sesostris pronounced him fit to leave his bed, he asked Phaedrus to help him dress and went down to his studio, to take care of his business. Life settled into normalcy and two weeks later we celebrated
the postponed banquet.
But we both knew it was the beginning of the end.

(*) Thalasa: In Ancient Greek, "The sea".
(**) Femina medica: In Latin, a female physician who attended exclusively female patients and also acted as "obstetrice"
(midwife).
(***) Valetudinarium: In Latin, the infirmary at a Roman military camp.