First Entry - The long way to Rome - A.D. 174

As I told Maximus in my letter, the journey to Rome was long and uneventful. Or perhaps it was full of events but I didn't notice. The detachment I had experienced for the first time when I had tried to slit my wrists settled in as I left Marcus Aurelius' tent defeated in my last effort to remain with Maximus, never to completely leave me, isolating me from the surrounding world and life. Aloofness and detachment were going to be the core of my first years as a freedwoman and, curiously or not, they'd prove to make me all the more attractive and coveted than the indiscriminate availability of my former whoring status.
But I'm getting ahead on my story...

The emperor wanted the legion to go to Rome as soon as possible and that meant being on the move day after day after day. For sure, it was not an easy task. But these were Roman soldiers, skilled and disciplined, proud and self-confident, well aware that nothing in the world was more important than their mission and that mission was to enforce their emperor's rule and power, their emperor but the most powerful man in the world.
During the first week we met good weather and consequently covered a good distance. Every now and then, we passed a small village and people run to the doors of their huts or left their daily tasks and raised their heads to look in awe at the imposing parade. And I couldn't but understand how overwhelmed those simple beings must have felt as they looked with eyes wide open the flashing display of Roman pride and power.

The cavalry marched ahead, the officers in the centre mounting their magnificent stallions. The aquilifer and signiferi proudly carried the golden eagles and banners that proclaimed the might of Rome and Caesar as the imaginifer did the same with the emperor's portrait. Then came the infantry, thousands of heavily armed soldiers marching on foot behind the legion's genius, this the ultimate symbol of comradeship for it is said to be inhabited by the spirit of generation after generation of Roman soldiers fallen on the battlefield, now living forever in glory and for their eternal mission to encourage those who came after them to fight till death for the glory of Rome and her emperor. Behind the infantry, the train of baggage and supplies, war machines, craftsmen and cattle seemed to stretch forever.

We marched swiftly along one of the many viae romanae of the empire, a road that lead to Rome and my new life, the life of a beautiful, young and wealthy freedwoman who was no more a whore. A woman rescued, desired and rejected by the only man she'd ever love. A woman regarded by the Roman emperor despite her low origins and enjoying his protection. Yet a woman sent away by both of them to fend by herself.
I rode with the other former slaves, immediately behind the cavalry, where Cornelius Crassus had placed us. We rode surrounded by two dozens of selected praetorians sent to Rome by the emperor. I was soon to learn that those heavily armed, black cladded men were the ones in charge of enforcing what the ever present Roman law prescribed for the family of those charged of treason against the emperor: confiscation of all wealth and property, exile, death.

Eugenia, Honora and Aelia chatted and giggled, too excited by the adventure and their recently acquired freedom to mind the dust of the road or give a second thought to the lonely, hard life that awaited all of us in Rome despite money. They tried to involve me in their incessant chat but I answered only in monosyllables and soon they left me in peace even if now and then Eugenia cast concerned glances towards me. I rode in silence, my eyes focused on the horizon, my back straight, my mind revisiting time and again the events of the week that had changed my life forever and my memories of the blue-eyed man who had made all of this possible.

I was soon to learn what being under the emperor's personal protection meant for I had a tent for myself while the other women had to share two between all of them. I also had Rufa to take care of me while they had to fend by themselves. My little Numidian servant girl travelled in a caravan during the day and came to me as soon as we stopped to hastily prepare my quarters for the night and I couldn't but notice that she was changing. It was not only the promise of a young woman early budding in her girlish body but also her demeanor. For, since I had told her why it was so important that she went to the Lady Lucilla and her son, the perpetually scared girl had been receding inside her, replaced by a more relaxed, talkative being. And before the first week was over she even surprised me with a little but genuine smile that made her white teeth shine like pearls set in her ebony face.

Being under Caesar's personal protection also meant being left by myself, for the praetorians and officers who now and then gazed the other women and even exchanged some words and smiles with them when Cornelius Crassus was not at sight, treated me with the cold, absolute, distant respect deserved by a member of the imperial family. Vaguely amused I asked myself what the overzealous quaestor had told them to keep those men at bay.

While marching, Cornelius Crassus came to me two times a day to ask me if I was alright or needed something. Invariably, I gave him a polite, automatic smile and told him that no, I needn't anything. And invariably he looked a little disappointed for it was obvious that he badly wanted me to ask him for something or give him an opportunity to remain by my side and talk. But he was too well mannered and too self controlled to show his disappointment or insist. So, he respectfully saluted me and spurred his horse back to his place among the officers while the praetorians smiled and the women exchanged knowing, amused glances.

Being on the move day after day meant camping with minimum comfort but no less safety. At the end of every marching day, the soldiers quickly set the camp. No matter how long the daily march had been, the men attended their well drilled tasks with speed and efficiency and by dusk we never found ourselves without a canvas roof over our heads, a hot meal at our table and our sleep being well guarded. And being on the move day after day after day also meant been exhausted by night and I was grateful for it also meant quickly falling asleep on my cot and soundly sleeping till dawn. My night hours were free of dreams and memories and sorrow, unlike the waking ones.

After the first week was over, it was obvious that the good weather would not last. Big clouds appeared in the horizon and it turned hotter and damper. Smelling the imminence of a storm, the horses turned restless as animals do when lightning and thunder are soon to roll. The officers ordered the legion to stop and set camp not for the night but for the duration of the storm that promised to strike soon and hard.

Suddenly, I felt as restless as my own horse, which tongued the brake and snorted and pawed impatiently. It was a young, spirited, strong animal and despite being as perfectly trained as everyone and everything belonging to the legion, it longed for a run. And I discovered that I longed to put it to a gallop and feel the wind in my face, a simple action that never failed to make me feel free even when I was a slave. So, when shortly after halting to start the preparations Cornelius Crassus came to ask me if I needed or wanted something, I said I did. The quaestor's face brightened.

"I'd like to go for a ride, a real ride. My horse is restless and we are in for a storm that may last for some days. Some exercise will do both of us good," I said and I was surprised to hear myself voice so many words after a string of days talking but monosyllables or simply remaining silent.
Cornelius Crassus looked surprised by my request for he probably had expected me to ask for an extra rug for my tent or a hot, perfumed bath, something soft and feminine. Instead, I was asking him for something wild. But, as he always did, he quickly mastered his feelings. "All right, Domina," he said and surprised me by adding, "I'll go with you."

I was aghast. I had never thought he'd let me go alone but also hadn't thought he'd be the one to go with me. I started to protest for I didn't want him around me while I was on the brink of doing the only thing that made me feel free. But the quaestor stopped me with a gesture and the words he seemed to rejoice in repeating time and again: "You are my personal charge."

So, after he exchanged some words with the praetorian officer, we put our horses to a canter and rode ahead of the camp to give our mounts free rein once we left the legion behind. He allowed me to lead and simply followed, as my horse relished in his new found freedom. Soon I left the road and galloped over the slopes, Cornellius Crassus always behind me, keeping his horse at a good pace but never trying to close on mine, as if he sensed my need to feel free -- really free -- for at least a short time and the way I could reach that semblance of freedom. And while my horse galloped, both our manes trailing in the wind, I felt my spirit lighten and even if my wounds were deep and will never completely heal, I knew that at least they had been cleansed... I still use to ride when I feel restless. I do it in the beach, alone, in the surf, my hair loose from the mandatory coil of decency, the wind singing in my ears, the water gently splashing me and my mount. And I still find in ridding that feeling of freedom that has nothing to do with imperial edicts and sealed documents... even if my wounds are still there.
Even if my heart still aches.

I came to a stop at the top of a hill and remained there, in silence, till Cornelius Crassus quietly came by my side. Despite my first, poor impression of the short, serious man I couldn't but be grateful for his understanding and discovered that saying so was easier than I expected.
"Thank you, quaestor. I needed this as much as my horse."
"It's alright, Domina. You are to have whatever makes you happy and comfortable provided you are safe. And my name is Cornelius."
I remained silent.
"Domina, you needn't fear me."
"I don't fear you, quaestor."
He smiled briefly. "No, you don't. You are not easily scared, are you?"

I returned his smile with a small, twisted one. "No, quaestor. I'm not easily scared." I didn't add that no woman who had been born a slave and been a whore since twelve, no woman who had killed a man and dared to love another who didn't love her could easily be scared by anyone or anything anymore.
"So you don't trust me, Domina?" he asked, his mossy green eyes softening.
I smiled both at the irony of the situation and the innocence of his remark. But how could he know that slaves and whores do not trust anybody, especially men? Yet I had been both and had trusted Maximus... Maximus, who had cared for me. Maximus who had wanted me so badly... Maximus who had sent me away to fend for myself in Rome while he went to his wife.

Cornelius Crassus was waiting for my answer. I forced myself to smile and speak. "How couldn't I trust you, quaestor? Caesar trusts you and put me in your hands."
"Then why do you refuse to call me by my name?"
For a moment, I was at a complete loss. Sitting on our mounts, our eyes were levelled and he looked me in earnest. Despite being pompous, it was obvious that Cornelius Crassus was a decent man... as obvious as the fact that he was more interested in his "personal charge" that what was good for him.
"I mean no disrespect, Domina. I'm not even asking your permission to call you by your name, just that you call me by mine." He seemed young and anxious and vulnerable, an unsettling change in a man usually so self contained. Against my own will I felt myself soften towards that auburn haired man who knew so little about women and life.

"Maximus."
"Don't call me that."
"Why not?"
"It's too... too... familiar."

Maximus words echoed in my mind and all hint of softness vanished. I tightened my hold of the reins. Yes, Cornelius Crassus was a decent man and it was not his fault that he wasn't Maximus. It wasn't his fault that I didn't want him to be with me on that hill in that corner of the empire but a ruggedly handsome Spaniard soldier who was on his way to a wife he loved. It wasn't his fault as much as it wasn't mine. Yet both of us would suffer.

I straightened my back. "It's too... too... familiar," I said well aware that I was using the same words Maximus had in his attempt to keep me at bay. The words that established his position and mine -the general and the slave, the faithful husband and the soiled whore- even it he hadn't probably noticed.
Even if I had preferred to ignore it.
Cornelius Crassus' face fell. As always, he quickly recovered but not so quickly that I didn't see the hurt in the mossy depths of his eyes. Then, he raised his chin and said, "Accept my apology, Domina. You are right."
I remained silent. "Let's go back," he said after what seemed a very long time. "It was not prudent coming so far. I shouldn't have compromised you reputation."
Without waiting for my answer, he turned his horse and galloped towards the camp. I was taken aback by his words. My reputation? Was he mocking me? Was he throwing my recent past in my face as retaliation for having been rejected? He didn't seem to be that kind of man but he was a man nevertheless and men don't take rejection lightly, no matter how educated or highly born they are. The first drops of rain brought me back from my musings. I heeled my mount and galloped after him.

The storm raged for three days and that meant keeping to the relative safety of our tents. Remaining inside mine was difficult after the freedom of the road even if I was given my trunks so I wouldn't be missing anything I may need. Inside the tent it was dark as we couldn't keep the flap open for it was pouring. Not that it'd have made any difference for the sky was leaden and we barely could discern noon from early evening. Rufa kept a couple of oil lamps burning all day but their dim light could do little to lighten the atmosphere. Lightning and thunder raged for hours on end and by the second day we couldn't but get cold meals.

As I never acquired female skills like weaving or sewing -- and was never to acquire them-- there was not much for me to do during my forced permanence in the tent. So I had no other way to ease my boredom than digging in my trunks for the few papyruses I owed and start again my hopeless struggle against my own illiteracy.
In my whoring days, despite the fact that I was a slave and thus available for free, some times men gave me presents, mostly small jewels or a vial of perfume. But some men also asked me what I wanted as a present and when that happened, I had to restrain myself not to ask them for a book. If I had done it, they'd had probably laughed at me or mocked me or even been angry with me. It was neither their amusement nor their anger what kept me from asking them what I really wanted but my refusal to allow those who sullied my body to also sully my secret life. So I had to content myself with the torn, discarded scrolls I could snatch here and there.

That night, I sat down at the small table where Rufa had set the oil lamps and opened one of those torn scrolls. As I did, I was suddenly aware that it was the first time in more than two weeks that I had made an attempt to read for, since that fateful night of Cassius' last party, there had been nothing in my mind but Maximus... Maximus who was no lover of words, but a man of action.

Bowing over the papyrus, struggling against the dim light and my own illiteracy while the storm roared outside, I didn't notice that someone was at the entrance of my tent till the flap was pulled aside and wind and rain found their way inside it. Startled, I raised my head just to see Cornelius Crassus as he badly struggled to close the flap again. As he did, the wind blew the papyrus away and sent it swirling to the quaestor's feet.
After the third attempt, Cornelius Crassus succeeded in tying the flap, took off his helmet and turned to me. He was soaked. "Domina, we have to talk."

I nodded in silence, warily looking at him as he unfastened his wet cape and threw it in a corner. My mind raced with the possible implications of his late night visit and furtively glanced towards the far corner where Rufa was sleeping. Was the quaestor going to try to get by force what I was unwilling to give? Was he going to betray his emperor's trust as Cassius had done? I braced myself for the assault.
But Cornelius Crassus bowed to pick up the papyrus that had fallen at his feet and looked at it. He smiled. "Ovidius," he said. "Do you enjoy poetry, Domina?"
I looked at him in silence, my wariness increasing. I had always been careful not to be caught reading. For the second time I found myself at a loss for no man except Andreas had ever talked to me about reading. As I didn't answer, the quaestor turned his eyes to the papyrus and read in loud voice:

He read with the ease of an educated man and I found myself enthralled by the sound of his voice, the purity of his Latin and the beauty and sadness of the poem I had chosen at random and been unable to read or understand. A poem which reflected the pain of a woman who longed for her man ... as I longed for a man who was another woman's.
Cornelius Crassus raised his head and smiled. "Penelope's Monologue," he said. "Most people prefer his lighter writings but I like more these. Did you know, Domina, that he was exiled close to where General Cassius was encamped?" He didn't wait for an answer and went on, obviously happy to talk about something different than the army life. "He was Rome's greatest poet and a favourite of emperor Augustus yet his body wasn't even taken to Italy. He was betrayed..." Cornelius Crassus' voice drifted away as he sat across from me and looked at me obviously awaiting for me to say something.
"You ... you read beautifully, quaestor," I mumbled.

His smile broadened at the unexpected compliment and then he laughed good naturedly. I was startled for it was the first time I had heard him laugh. "I'd love my old tutor to hear you say that, Domina," he said. "Unlike my elder brother, I was a very poor student. My tutor always complained to my father and he had me thoroughly punished for he was a no nonsense man who highly valued education. But punishment did not make me a better student. On the contrary, I was more determined than ever to have my own way. Do you know what I dreamed about when I was a boy, Domina?"
I shook my head in silence, more interested in his tale than I was wishing to admit for it was surprising to have this serious, self contained man confess he had had secret dreams and imply that they had been wild ones.

"I wanted to be a sailor, Domina, and explore the unknown waters in search of treasures and adventures," he chuckled. "Bad enough for a plebeian's son but simply outraging for a senator's one ..." Cornelius Crassus remained silent for a moment, lost in his thoughts about the boy he had been. Then, he went on talking. "When I was thirteen, the old monster suddenly died and shortly after Apollinarius took his place. He was a young Greek freedman and the most intelligent man I had ever known. Unlike my previous tutor, he didn't dismiss me or punish me and concentrate his efforts in teaching my brother. No, Apollinarius never got impatient with me, even if I was acting sullen or mutinous. He talked to me for hours on end and never seemed to be unsettled by the fact that I refused to answer. He simply went on talking and one day I discovered myself avidly listening to his tales, be it that he was talking about his native Greece or the song of the sirens who lured Odysseus' men to their death."

I leaned forward for, even if I didn't notice at the moment, I was listening to Cornelius Crassus as avidly as he had listened to that mysterious tutor or him.
"The sirens did it," he went on saying. "He talked about them and their beauty and voices as if they were cherished friends. They were real to him... as real and as familiar as they were to me. And one day I found myself talking to him, confessing him my dreams about ships and travelling ... My older brother laughed and mocked me and Apollinarius did something extraordinary nobody had done before: he punished Junius. My father was outraged when he got word of his flawless elder being punished on behalf of his useless younger. But Apollinarius stood his ground and I knew I couldn't let him down."

The quaestor remained silent for a moment and when he spoke again I was startled to discover that I had been holding my breath.
"Suddenly, studying became very important to me, an adventure as wonderful and as thrilling as those I longed for. Greek, rhetoric, Latin, writing, mathematics, history, philosophy, poetry, tragedy... seen through Apollinarius' eyes everything was a fascinating adventure. He taught me to love Lucretius and Sophocles, Titus Livius and Teocritus, Seneca and Euripides... but I always had a soft spot for Ovidius... I still have it. To everybody's surprise but Apollinarius, I excelled in my studies and even my father grudgingly admitted that something good may become from me."

His voice drifted away and his gaze told me that he was lost in his own thoughts.
"One of the saddest days of my life was that I saw Apollinarius go...," he went on saying. "My brother and I were grown up men and ready to fulfil our duties to our family, our class and Rome so he left for another household and other children."
"I hope I had known him," I said. Then, noticing that I had voiced my interest for the fascinating man who had taught him to love words and books, I blushed uncomfortably. Cornelius Crassus didn't seem bothered by my outburst. He simply looked at me and smiled. Then, he said, softly "You'd like Apollinarius very much, Domina ... and I'm sure he'd be fascinated with you ... I can even imagine what he'd say when he'd see you ..."
His voice trailed off and I looked at him puzzled.
"He'd say that you are exactly like we dreamed the sirens to be."
I was startled by his words and my eyes locked into his bewildered ones.
"Forgive me, Domina ... I didn't mean any disrespect", he said. He sobered and added, "As I told you, we need to talk. The emperor ordered me to make myself sure that you understand your current station in life. Domina, do you know what being a freedwoman means?
"Yes, quaestor. It means that I'm not a piece of merchandise anymore."
My bluntness startled him but as always he recovered quickly.
"Basically, yes. But it also means that you are free to go wherever you want, settle wherever you like and own property. You are also free to marry... the emperor insisted on this subject because he's concerned about your well being."
I felt like laughing. Oh, yes. Caesar was concerned about my well being. But even in his wisdom he had failed to understand that time would not wear out my love for Maximus but only enhance it as I compared every other man that'd cross my path with him and everyone of then would pale in contrast... as Cornelius Crassus did.
"You have been granted freedom and citizenship by the emperor himself so you can marry any freedman or free born Roman citizen but those of the senatorial class. It's important that you understand this for you are young and so beautiful ... once you settle in Rome as a freedwoman, men will flock around you." He stopped, cleared his throat, started to speak again and failed. I took pity of him.
"I'm no more interested in marriage than in returning to my former life."
"Domina, you are a woman -- a woman on her own is not ... not ... respectable."
"Quaestor, I know enough about Roman respectability and respectable Roman citizens not to care about what people think about me. And I don't plan to become a paid whore instead of an enslaved one ... not even one of those called 'wives.'"
"Domina, I know enough about your... your unfortunate situation to understand your wish to remain by yourself. But you should think about your reputation," he said and raised a hand to stop me. "Nobody needs to know about... the past. You are young and so very beautiful... and smart... you'd make a wonderful wife for any man... many men will want to marry you ... even those beyond your reach ." Suddenly, Cornelius Crassus looked very vulnerable and young. But most of all, he looked so very lonely. As lonely as Marcus Aurelius. As lonely as Maximus. "There are ways to erase the past," he went on saying. "Everything is too recent for you ... it will take sometime to get used to freedom but ... I... I'm ready to help you Domina ... beyond Caesar's orders ... and ... in any way you may need." He was openly stammering now and had to stop for breath. "You'll have to... consider some ... adjustments", he added obviously embarrassed.
I remained in silence.
"Your... you dress beautifully but ...you... your..."
I dressed beautifully? I felt like laughing. All my life I had dressed but to show off my beauty and many times that had meant being more naked than dressed. But Cornelius Crassus had only seen me in my travelling clothes. I wondered what he'd say if he'd seen me in my foamy, sea-green tunic. The translucent tunic that had scandalised Maximus so much. The tunic which had but veiled my naked body as I desperately tried to have him take me... and as I slept my loneliness and misery away in his muscled, strong arms.

But the embarrassed quaestor was still struggling to fulfil Caesar's orders, even if it meant to painfully deal with feminine matters. Cornelius Crassus raised his mossy green eyes, took a deep breath and said, "It's... it's your hair, Domina."
I snapped to attention.
"Oh...it's... it's beautiful... glorious ...but ... Domina, you should get used to... to wear it coiled... coiled as... befits a... decent lady."
I stiffened.
"Domina, I intend no insult," he pleaded. "I'd never deliberately hurt you."
"I know, quaestor," I answered coldly.
I stood up and he did the same, stumbling in his hurry.
"It's late. I want to retire. Now." My voice sounded icy.
He looked at me with liquid eyes and added in a soft voice.
"Domina, it's for your own good."
That did it.
That patronising line.
I raised my chin and carefully pronounced every word, as if Cornelius Crassus had been a dumb, half witted creature: "Quaestor, I became a freedwoman by the wish of an emperor who's also regarded as divine. I don't plan to spend my freedom bowing to the wishes of mere men." Without waiting for his answer, I turned around. As I did, I saw Rufa awake on her cot, her eyes wide open. She had obviously been listening for, even if she said nothing, her pearly teeth flashed as she offered me an admiring smile.

(*) Publius Ovidius Naso, "Penelope's Monologue" ("Heroidas", Book I)

Second Entry - My new life, part I ­ A.D. 174

Delayed by the storm and two other spells of bad weather, we didn't reach Italia till fall. Autumn is beautiful in Rome and has always been my favourite season. But I was so absorbed by my fears and grief that I barely noticed the golden and copper tones of the leaves or the way the sun shone on the last crops.

Marcus Aurelius had ordered the legion to go to Rome hastily but for a legion going to Rome doesn't mean getting into the walled city but camping in the nearest military base in Ostia. It was an agreement between emperors and army leaders and it had been in force for a century. In the same way the letters SPQR were emblazoned in every eagle and public monument and even inked in the left biceps of every army man, generals kept their armies outside the capital. For in the same way those four letters reminded the men that they fought and served Senatus Populusque Romanus -- the Senate and the People of Rome -- and not the personal ambitions of the emperors, the banning of the legions inside the perimeter of the capital was also a way to remind rulers of the fragility of their position and how much they depended on the loyalty of their armies.
So we headed for the army base in Ostia, near the harbour where ships coming from Egypt and Greece and many other provinces brought their precious cargo, and arrived there on a sunny autumn afternoon setting camp for the last time.

Since our conversation at my tent during the storm, Cornelius Crassus had visited me on regular basis to fulfil his orders but instead of instructing me about my recently acquired freedom or the decency required by my new social status, he mostly interrogated me on the whereabouts of General Cassius, the location of his villa and the number of slave girls and women living there. He still asked me politely if I needed or wanted something but he never, ever, talked again about poetry or his youth or that fascinating man he called Apollinarius and I discovered myself more disappointed that I cared to show.

We had been in Ostia for four days when Cornelius Crassus came to my tent and found me once again struggling with a papyrus as I had done every night since he had talked to me about poetry and his love for Ovidius. I was mortified to be caught for the second time in the throes of my own inadequacy but Cornelius Crassus acted as if finding a barely literate former slave and whore trying to decipher poetry was the most natural thing.
"Accept my apologies for interrupting you, Domina," he said in his quiet, cultured voice, "but I came to inform you that tomorrow I will be moving you from this camp. We will head for the praetorian camp in the border of the city where I have business to attend. Then, I will take you into Rome."
Uncomfortable as it was, camp life had been good for me as the military routine had helped lull my senses for the duration of the journey. It had been a comfort of sorts to be forced to get up at dawn every day, get my belongings, mount the horse and ride for hours on end only to come to a stop, see my tent raised and unpack for the night, then fill my stomach with food provided by others and finally fall asleep on my cot for a night of exhausted, dreamless sleep. But now it was over as Maximus' caring and protection had been over when I was sent away by him and the emperor and the dreaded moment when I was going to be thrown into the world to fend by myself was closer than ever.
"We will depart early in the morning and remain there for the night. The following day I will take you and your servant girl to my sister's house."
I arched my eyebrows quizzically.
"It will take some time to have you settled in Rome as the emperor ordered, Domina. I will have to leave you alone while I attend the emperor's errands and you cannot lodge in an inn by yourself for it's not respectable." He raised his hand to stop me before I could speak. "I want you to remain in a place where you will be safe and cared for while I'm busy doing Caesar's deeds. I'd bring you to my family's home but my brother is serving his term in Syria and his wife is with him and we cannot lodge under the same roof without their presence."
"What will happen to the women?"
"They will come with us to the praetorian's camp where they will remain while the praetors deal with their manumission and settlement. Yours has already been solved by imperial edict and I have just but to have it inscribed in the public records. The praetors will also take care of the slaves at the villa..."
My stomach tightened painfully.
"You... have been at..."
"It's done. We rescued seventeen women. Three of them are pregnant."
I shuddered.
"They are safe and will be freed and receive an allowance. You needn't worry."
"And the little girls? The babies?"
"We found eight girls and three female babies. Caesar has given orders to provide for them. The babies will remain with their mothers and the girls will be placed the same way the others will be. The emperor is a compassionate man."
A dull ache filled me. I pressed my lips tightly to control my churning emotions.
"I will come for you at dawn. Please, be ready to depart."
I nodded in silence, not trusting my own voice. Then, I turned around, anxious as always to be left by myself. I hadn't taken but two steps when Cornelius Crassus' voice reached me again.
"And, Domina, I beg you to reconsider my words. I'm not placing a judgement on you. But you have been given the opportunity to start a new. Please, do yourself the favour to observe some conventions. Coil your hair."

It was at the castra praetoria that I found Rubia. I have always loved cats. They are beautiful, sleek, smart, full of dignity and fiercely independent. They are silent and observant, wise and secretive, elegant and self assured. And even when they consent to share their lives with us, they look at humans with a mix of amusement and exasperation that never fails to amaze me. It is as if for them we were but curious and slightly dumb pets. And they always manage to establish who has the upper hand and get away with the last word. Nevertheless, they are not heartless as many people believe. They simply refuse to allow us to involve them in the pettiness of our lives for such pettiness is below them. But when our sorrows are genuine and not born from our own foolishness, we can trust them to bring us comfort in their own, silent, mysterious way.

Needless to say that in the same way I never had a doll I also never had a cat for there was no place at Cassius' villa for pets lest they be his hunting hounds. But one way of the other, I managed to feed the strays which came both to the villa and the camp in Moesia and share with them blessed moments of silent comfort.
Rubia was but a kitten and I was attracted to her hiding place under a cart by her fierce meowing, a demanding cry that spoke volumes about the furry creature's temper. She was about a month old, three coloured and had big green eyes. It was obvious that she was lost and hungry yet she hissed and spit like a miniature tigress when I tried to catch her. It took lots of patience and a bowl of goat milk to bring her out and in the meantime I got my tunic and hands soiled and managed to attract lots of attention from the black clad men who didn't seem to be able to decide between amusement or exasperation. Oblivious to everything and everyone I went ahead trying to entice the kitten and drag it from beneath the cart. Finally, when she had drunk her fill, she purred in contentment, allowed me to catch her and take her to my tent.

When I arrived there, Rufa was asleep and I startled her ordering her to help me set a place for the cat and fussing around the animal like she had never seen me fuss. And when Cornelius Crassus came at dusk, he found me cradling the still asleep kitten which I had already named Rubia, for among her colours orange-copper was the dominant one and that fierce colour fit perfectly the cat's personality.
Cornelius Crassus looked at me and the cat with something close to disbelief and I frowned at him, silently challenging the quaestor to dare disagree with the adoption. His gaze turned into one of amusement. It was obvious that he had heard about my adventure from the praetorians.
"I can see you found yourself a pet, Domina," he said while he took off his helmet. "It's good that you got yourself a companion but you'll have to be very careful when you bring it to the city for it can be easily lost."
I tightened my hold of the kitten and looked at him as offended as if he had questioned my suitability for motherhood. The cat awoke and meowed in protest against been smoothed. I petted and shushed her while scowling at the quaestor, silently blaming him for Rubia's disturbance. Cornelius Crassus sighed.
"Domina, be ready to travel after noon for I will be bringing you and your servant ... and your cat... into the city."
I bit my lip. "The women?," I asked once more and in a small voice.
"You needn't worry, Domina. They will be cleared in a few days. I want you in Rome ahead." He looked me briefly in the eye and added, "You can get in contact with them later..." He hesitated.
I knew what he really wanted to say: that I should forget them, put them aside as Maximus had done with me. That those unfortunate women were but whores and would never be anything else even if from now on they'd be paid for the use of their skilled bodies.

I remained silent. He needn't know that I'd had already decided to go my own way and leave them behind, not because I was better than them but because if I was going to be forced to fend by myself then I wanted to put behind everything regarding my old life. And because I couldn't stand the idea of seeing those unfortunate women go back into whoring, not for the money or because they liked it but simply because it was the only way they could avoid loneliness. He needn't know things he couldn't understand simply because, like Maximus, he had been born a man and he had been born free.

We arrived at Cornelius Crassus' sister's home in the early evening and even before he knocked at the door of the elegant house, it was obvious that our arrival couldn't be more untimely for the house was full of light and flooded with guests. Even if taken by surprise, Cornelius Crassus knocked at the door and the doorman greeted him warmly but was taken aback when he asked the reason of the celebration and explained him in shushed tones that it was the natalicia nobilisima Silvia Cornelia, the lady's birthday party, which the quaestor seemed to have completely forgotten.

Cornelius Crassus tiredly rubbed a hand over his forehead. The last two days had been gruesome even for a seasoned soldier. Coming from Ostia, we had entered Rome through the Porta Ostiensis and going from there to the castra praetoria meant crossing the city from one border to the other on foot for we travelled in daylight. Even if a praetorian escort had speed up our march, it was a long distance along crowded, noisy streets. Coming all the way from the praetorian camp to that elegant house in the First District and close to Porta Capena had meant nearly repeating the whole trip.
Before he had time to say anything, the most noble and obviously pregnant Silvia Cornelia appeared in the atrium. The resemblance between brother and sister was striking. The young matron was in her mid twenties and had the same mossy green eyes and auburn hair which she wore, unlike me, decently coiled. And, like him, she could have been beautiful if she hadn't taken herself so seriously. But Silvia Cornelia took herself very seriously and was not happy to find her tired brother at her atrium dressed in his worn, dusty uniform while she received those who, unlike him, seemed to have remembered the important date. And she was less than happy to find he not only had come in the most inconvenient moment and obviously unannounced but dragging his "personal charge" with him, not to mention a Numidian girl carrying the basket in which a kitten slept.

A look at Silvia Cornelia was all I needed to know the kind of woman she was, one of those high ranking wives who value nothing but their names and virtues, their flawless ancestry and fertility. They are taught to weave and sew and manage a house, to deal with slaves and submit to their fathers' wills entering arranged marriages and bearing children as they fulfil their marital duties but don't take part in them, just lying on their backs while their husbands do what it takes to plant pure blood babies in their prized wombs. And Silvia Cornelia needed but a glance at me to decide that I was soiled goods.

Before her brother could speak, the young matron raised her pointed chin and addressed him not too gently. "As you didn't announce your visit, I must suppose that you don't remember what day is today." she said in a brisk tone.
"I'm very sorry, sister. As you know, I have been on service and have just returned to the city. I shouldn't have come without announcing myself if it hadn't been out of need ..." started the quaestor.
"Out of need? You choose your time poorly, brother. As you can see, I'm entertaining guests. Important guests."
Cornelius Crassus sighed.
"I didn't know I needed an invitation to visit my own family."
"You don't. But it's bad manners to forget your sister's birthday. And worse to bring in another person without seeking permission."
"Silvia, let me introduce you."
"I don't think I want to be introduced."
Rubia chose that moment to wake up, pop her orange coloured head above the rim of the basket and fix on the matron her curious green eyes.
"A cat!" cried Silvia Cornelia. "What's that filthy beast doing in my house?"

Alarmed by the lady's voice, Rubia jumped off the basket and ran into the most noble house. Without a second thought, I ran after the kitten, pushing Silvia Cornelia and her brother aside. Vaguely I heard screams behind me and the quaestor's booted footsteps followed by lighter ones, probably the doorman's.
Rubia ran blindly, seeking for a place to hide and I ran after her. Too late I noticed the door to the triclinium had been opened and that she headed directly towards that room. Startled by the wave of light and noise, the kitten suddenly stopped and as I tried to avoid running over her, I slid on the polished mosaic and fell heavily on my hands and knees. Pain slashed through my body and breath left me. As I remained there, dizzy and panting, I used my last strength to catch Rubia by her neck's fur and prevent her from getting into more trouble.

Little by little I noticed that all sound had ceased around me and as I raised my eyes from the trembling kitten I saw that I was surrounded by a semicircle of elegantly dressed men and women, obviously Silvia Cornelia's aristocratic guests. I saw women suspiciously look at me and then frown. And I saw men arch their eyebrows then smile appreciatively as their eyes roamed over my body. Towering over me, Silvia Cornelia's male guests had an ample view of my heaving bosom.

Cornelius Crassus came to a stop at my side, grabbed me by my arm and unceremoniously hauled me to my feet. "Are you alright, Domina?" he asked in a warning tone. I nodded in silence, blushing painfully and hating myself for offering an spectacle to those rich Romans.

The sudden appearance of a high ranking Roman officer in full regalia following that of a red-gold haired woman who was no aristocrat at all -- not to mention a three coloured kitten and the black skinned serving girl who arrived at Cornelius Crassus' heels -- was too much for the guests' curiosity. As if obeying a signal, they all started talking and asking questions at the same time.
Silvia Cornelia arrived at this moment and after stabbing me with a murderous look, she plastered a smile on her face and ushered her guests back into the triclinium as she let fall some words here and there about the provinces and duty and how well her dear brothers served Rome and her emperor.

We followed a servant along the stairs and a corridor on the second floor. During all the way, Cornelius Crassus held my arm tightly and I didn't protest. I felt too exhausted and humiliated and my knees had already started to hurt badly. Rubia was still rigid with distress. A silent Rufa closed the march.
The servant stopped at a door at the far end of the corridor and opened it.
Cornelius Crassus let my arm go and excused himself. "Domina, you will be safe here. Make yourself comfortable and rest while I change into civilian clothes and go down to my sister's birthday party... I need to talk to her... I will come for you as soon I finish dealing with your papers." He scrutinized my face which I was too tired to compose in an unreadable mask as it was my habit and for sure showed off how drained I felt. "Rest!" he repeated but I couldn't guess if it was gentle advice or subtle warning. This said, he bowed lightly and went away.
When I got into the room, Rufa had already lighted the only two lamps and it was obvious that it was not exactly the best guest room of the house. It was small, windowless and smelled of dust and mold. The furniture was old and there was no place for Rufa to sleep but the frayed carpet. Wincing, I sat on the bed and looked around as the little Numidian girl philosophically dealt with every evening's routine. Suddenly, I discovered that I envied her.

Thirst awoke me. Rufa had turned the lamps low before curling by my side on the bed but even in the dim light I could see there was no jug of water in the room. I got up trying not to awake the sleeping girl and the kitten, which had curled between us, and padded towards the door. Opening it a crack I noticed that the party was over and the house was in silence but some torches still burned in the courtyard. Water gurgled in a nearby fountain and at the bubbling sound which promised sweet relief thirst turned into an angry beast ripping my entrails. I padded silently towards the stairs and hurried down on my bare feet.

The water was cold and sweet and I gulped it anxiously, not caring that it ran down my chin and between my breasts. I splashed my face and neck and was drinking greedily again when the sound of voices and footsteps took me by surprise. Somebody was coming into the courtyard. I barely had time to hide in the shadows of the gallery and behind the potted honey suckle before an agitated Silvia Cornelia stepped into the garden followed by her brother. The quaestor was dressed in a simple, white tunic and looked decidedly weary.

"How dare you to bring your mistress to my home?" hissed Silvia Cornelia.
"Silvia, she's not my mistress! The Lady Julia is in my charge..."
"Lady Julia? You call that creature 'Lady Julia'? "
"That's her name."
"She's a whore!"
"Now, Silvia, don't be so harsh..."
"You only need to take a look at that mane of hair she flaunts for all to see!"
"She doesn't flaunt her hair! She simply wears it loose."
"And what kind of women use their hair loose? Uh? Tell me!"
"The very young and unmarried. The Lady Julia is very young and unmarried..."
"Father always said that there was something wrong with you he was right! Isn't it bad enough that you are not married at your age? If you want to have a mistress, it's your problem. But don't bring her into my house and humiliate me in front of my guests!"
"Your guests only had a glimpse at her!" protested Cornelius Crassus.
"Enough to have them asking me who she was! I had to invent some excuse ..."
"Oh, but you shouldn't have, my dear," said the wary quaestor. "You could have told them the truth."

Even in the dim light of the last torches I could see that Silvia Cornelia was aghast. Before she could go on talking, her brother completed the sentence.
"Next time they ask, Silvia, tell them the Lady Julia is under the emperor's personal protection and that Caesar so much trusts your useless brother that he entrusted her to him."
The lady recovered quickly. She was used to have her way or, at least, the last word. Briefly I wondered who her obviously absent husband would be. Probably a high ranking magistrate who was too happy to spare his most noble wife the discomforts of his term in a remote province where he had a more pleasant creature to keep him company.
"So she's not your mistress but the emperor's..."
"Enough! It's not your place or any other's to judge Caesar's whereabouts!"
Taken by surprise by her brother's angry reaction, Silvia Cornelia flinched and I couldn't but slightly smile.
"And now, sister, as your brother and head of our family in the absence of Junius Cornelius, I order you to do your duty to your family and your emperor and lodge the Lady Julia for as long as it is required."
The matron didn't seem very inclined to cooperate but she couldn't deny her brother his rights as temporary pater familias. She stiffened and pressed her lips.
"Make yourself sure that the Lady Julia is comfortable and her stay at your most noble house a pleasant one."

Silvia Cornelia remained mute. I had no illusions about my permanence at her place. I knew her kind: they have their own ways to fight back.
"And for your knowledge, Silvia, the Lady Julia is not the emperor's mistress."
"Oh, no?" sneered the matron, "Then why is it that she's so valuable to him?"
"Because she saved his throne ... and the empire," said Cornelius Crassus with a broad, pleasant smile. He turned on his heels and left the garden.

Third Entry - My new life, part II - 174 A.D.

I remained for three days at Silvia Cornelia's home while her brother dealt with documents and magistrates and supervised the imperial inventories which preceded the auction of all Avidius Cassius' belongings, for his Roman house and villa had to be vacated before being transferred to the state. Needless to say they were not pleasant ones. I never saw Silvia Cornelia for I preferred to remain in my airless room than to risk her haughty rage and slashing tongue. But, as I said, the most noble lady did not need a direct confrontation to deal with her unexpected -- and unwanted -- guest.

Soon I was to discover that Silvia Cornelia not only was pregnant but already had five children, four of them noisy, nasty, obnoxious boys who found great fun in kicking at my door, mocking and scaring Rufa when she ventured out and, once they discovered Rubia, trying to snatch her away from me. But Rubia was too quick for them, and unimpaired by civilization and good manners, and didn't lose time trying to reason or be polite. Instead, she sent away the boy who tried to fetch her in tears and with a bloody cheek.

When this happened, I urged Rufa to be ready to leave the house as soon as the outraged matron came to the room demanding the kitten was thrown away.
But Silvia Cornelia never materialized. Instead, all our meals arrived late and cold or late and burned or simply didn't arrive and the wine that accompanied them -- when it did -- was the kind lowly masters serve to their slaves, in truth more vinegar than wine. No water or milk was ever sent to our airless quarters and I was never offered the chance to take a bath. The servants sneered when they caught me drinking from the courtyard's fountain. Gathering my battered dignity I asked them for some warm water to wash but they turned around without a word. Rufa later told me that a slave boy who run errands had whispered to her that they had been ordered not to attend any demand coming from me. Silvia Cornelia was fairly sure that I wouldn't complain to her brother and, if I did, she could always blame the slaves, having in the meantime a handy excuse to have them flogged if it was her pleasure. That's the way things work in many Roman households.

As a serving slave and not one kept for pleasure, Rufa was in some matters a lot more resourceful than I and soon I was to know that she had taken the precautions of someone who knows what it is to be hungry and doesn't plan to go through it again. At the second day at Silvia Cornelia's house, when our evening meal failed to appear and my stomach grunted in protest, she rummaged in the leather sack she always kept with her and produced dried apples and pears, bread, goat cheese and a piece of a honeycomb.
"Where did you get all of these, Rufa?" I asked between hungry bites. We were sitting cross legged on the bed, feeding a ravenous Rubia bits of cheese and drops of honey.
"Camp," she said briefly and her eyes sparkled with mischief.
"The praetorian camp?"
The little Numidian girl nodded as she tenaciously munched her share.
"If the praetorians had caught you, they'd have punished you!"
She shrugged. "Nobody ever catches Rufa," she said as she offered me a pear.

But they caught her. Or, to tell the truth, they caught both of us as we tried to sneak into Silvia Cornelia's kitchen searching for some milk for Rubia. She was but a kitten and got easily tired of munching. Cheese and honey were not enough for the perpetually hungry, furry thing which was growing at the amazing speed of a tiger cub and had no compunction about demanding her food. So, after a sleepless night of noisy feline complaints, we headed for the kitchen on tip toes when it was still dark and tried to get a bowl of milk.
Not knowing the house, we couldn't anticipate that some slaves slept on the kitchen's floor and nearly stepped on them. The subsequent ruckus attracted the main cook, a big, blond man who was not happy at all to be disturbed while he slept and who looked at us as if we were guilty of murder.
"We...," I started and then corrected myself. "I... my... I need..."
The man twitched his lips in disgust and then ran an appreciative look down my body. At the familiar, lustful glare, I felt my skin crawl. My hand clutched the shawl I had thrown over my night gown. Was it going to be always like this?
The cook smiled in an unpleasant way and cocked his head.
"I need some milk...," I babbled.

The big, blond man walked towards me and I stepped back... only to find myself trapped against the chopping block. My heart raced in terror as I saw the cook extend a beefy hand towards me. He was going to touch me ... and if he did, I was going to scream and if I started screaming, I was sure I'd go mad. All my life I had been pawed and harassed and manhandled. After that first night at the old senator's house I had learned to master my feelings and hide the ever-increasing hate and resentment that the pawing and harassing and manhandling unleashed. But a night, not so long ago, in a Roman army camp near the Black Sea, things had changed forever. For the big, strong, warm, callused hands that had touched and caressed my face, my hair, my body had done it not in lust but in wonder and tenderness, in caring and desire and under those hands my body had awoken and become no more the vessel of selfish male pleasures but the living, passionate vessel of my own.
The cook came closer.
The man knew what I was and was going to take advantage, as any man but Maximus had done since I was a child. What he didn't know was that I had killed the man who had made me what I was ... and that I was ready to kill any other who tried to make a whore of me again.

"I have made you a freedwoman and a freedwoman you will be! The least you can do is act like one!"

A freedwoman.
I was a freedwoman. Not a slave. Not a whore.
A decent man had treated me like a decent woman even when I was but a slave and a whore. An emperor had made me free and wealthy and owed me a debt no gold in the Roman empire could pay.
I was a freedwoman. I had saved an empire. And the man I loved.
If a freedwoman wants to be touched by a male slave, she simply orders him to her bed and has him flogged if he fails to oblige.

I straightened my back and raised my chin.
"How dare you look at me as if you were my equal?"
My words ricocheted against the walls of the kitchen. I barely recognised my own, cold, angry voice. The cook winced as if I had slapped him and his hand fell by his side. Behind him, the kitchen slaves' eyes widened.
I looked around in disgust. I needn't pretend. I was bitterly angry. And the kitchen was dishevelled and blackened with smoke. I knew enough about households to know that this one was governed by a woman who was too absorbed by her self importance to lower herself and take a look around... and that her steward was too happy with the convenient situation to complaint.
I looked back at the cook and his assistants.
"Is there any fresh milk in this pigsty you call a kitchen?"
"Ye-yes, Domina," mumbled the cook, then quickly bowed his head.
"I want a bowl of fresh milk! NOW!"
The slaves hurried to fill an clay bowl with milk, spilling some in their haste and some more when they offered it to me.
"Do I look like an errand boy?" I snapped. The slave denied frantically. "Give it to my maid!"
Mumbling an apology, the woman bowed again and gave the bowl to Rufa. I turned back to the kitchen staff.
"You are but a lazy, dirty, foul mannered bunch that deserves to be flogged and sent to the market... Perhaps a good auctioneer could get a decent price ... selling you to the brothels in Subura... All of you!" My voice was strong, cold and calm. Later I'd notice that I was using the same determined tone Maximus had used when he had arrested Cassius' officers at his tent. The slaves may have been lazy and ill trained but they reacted promptly to a commanding voice and the upper-class Latin. I may have been illiterate but I had learned my manners and speech from consuls and senators. "But I doubt you are worth the effort. In any case, you have been placed where you belong: in the disgraceful household of a bitch who fancies herself a lady!"
Turning around, I stormed out of the kitchen.

I couldn't go back to sleep. Instead, I lay awake while Rufa gently snored by my side and Rubia purred in contentment, her belly warm and full thanks to Silvia Cornelia's milk. I remained still, looking at the ceiling of the airless room, the lack of windows keeping light at bay but the birds chirping in the courtyard proclaiming dawn.
I was restless. I got up and silently sat at the table, in front of the mirror Rufa had set there for me and carefully displayed ivory pins, brushes and combs. Then, I brushed my waist long hair, smoothing the soft waves Maximus had caressed in tenderness and grabbed in passion. I never coiled my hair but hastily while taking a bath. Clumsily, I parted it and even more clumsily I tried first to braid it and, failing, to coil it. I failed again. And again. And again. Pins slipped from my hands, tendrils refused to remain where I wanted them to be and stubbornly fell on my face. I bit my lower lip in painful concentration till it was sore. My hands trembled, my arms ached. The looks of decency eluded me in the same way and with the same fierceness with which Roman matrons like Silvia Cornelia eluded the ones like me.

Suddenly, frustration turned into bitter, burning anger. My right arm swept the surface of the table with barely contained violence. Combs, pins and brushes flew around. A small coffer crashed on the floor, where the lid opened spilling its contents. Rufa woke up startled by the noise. Rubia jumped under the bed.
"Mistress Julia?," asked the girl hesitatingly.
I didn't answer. I was looking at the floor, where a leather pouch was lying at my feet. Another smaller one rolled a short distance before stopping. I hadn't seen those pouches since that fateful night in Moesia, when I had met Maximus and my life had changed forever. The biggest one contained a dozen small, rounded, Greek sponges. The smaller, an expensive mix of herbs many a Roman lady would have liked to have. Herbs and sponges had kept me free from the consequences of my duties and a stolen dagger had extracted revenge from the man who had imposed those duties on me. Yet my soiled past mocked me and my attempts to look like I was supposed to look from now on.
"Mistress Julia?"
Rubia's rust colored head popped from under the bed. She was but a kitten and playfull curiosity was still stronger in her than wariness. She jumped on the bigger pouch as if it were a ball, happily attacking it with claws and teeth.
I couldn't stand the room any more. I stood up, walked to the door and went out, slamming it shut with such violence that the noise must have woke up whoever was sleeping in the still silent house.

Cornelius Crassus came for me the following morning. When I stepped into the atrium, he was by himself, his noble sister and nephews nowhere to be seen. The quaestor frowned when he saw Rufa at my heels, carrying the ever present basket for the kitten. But the basket was empty as I carried Rubia in my arms.
"Domina, we're going to the emperor's banker. There's no need to take your maid and your pet. We will come back ..."
"They are coming with me," I snapped and walked towards the door without waiting for his answer. The doorman must have heard about the ruckus at the kitchen, for he stumbled in his hurry to open the door. I didn't even acknowledg his presence.

I stepped out of Silvia Cornelia's house just to trip on a praetorian's booted foot. Startled, I stumbled but the black clad man didn't lose his composure. He merely looked at me with that unreadable facial expression that's mandatory for imperial guards. But Rubia hissed angrily at the guard and he flinched. Feeling avenged, I started to walk away briskly. I didn't go far. Cornelius Crassus grabbed my arm and forced me to turn around saying, "This way, Domina!"

The praetorian was not alone. Five other heavily armed men were with him. They quickly lined up flanking us from both sides, a formidable escort for a red-gold haired, eighteen-year-old girl, a Roman military quaestor in full regalia, a little Numidian maid and a three-colored kitten. Cornelius Crassus released my arm before I had time to shrug his hand off.

I walked in silence, stubbornly ignoring both the praetor's presence and the curious glances of the people we crossed on our way. It had been only two years since I had seen the streets of Rome for the last time but the city had changed. Or perhaps I was looking at it with completely different eyes. For sure my last Roman trip couldn't have been more different than the actual one. Two years ago I had been delivered in a gold and mahogany litter at the gates of a wealthy member of the senate's house close to the Palatine. I was wrapped in turquoise silk and my skin had been powdered with gold, my body an offer from a powerful man in need of support for his political schemes to another powerful man who couldn't resist a beautifully modeled piece of flesh that also knew how to make him feel powerful in a completely different arena than the floor of the Senate. It was a good thing that Cornelius Crassus hadn't brought a litter or a chair to carry me to the banker's home. As I said, he was a smart man.

We walked towards the Forum, our passage sped by the menacing presence of the praetorian guards. Rome assaulted my senses with her crowds, her colors, her smells, her noise. People turned their heads around to look at us, obviously intrigued by our strange procession but street vendors, pickpockets and beggars kept to themselves, six imperial guards too much to be foolishly ignored. After a few blocks, I had heard a dozen different languages, seen the features of a dozen different nations and sniffed sweat, spices, urine and the most exquisite fragrances an Eastern perfume market can offer.
I was at home.

We stopped at an impressive house which looked like a fortress and the praetorian officer knocked at the door with the baton that denoted his rank. Cornelius Crassus exchanged a few words with the doorman and we were all admitted into the house without further delay.
"We are at Aemilius Trebutius Flaccus' house," the quaestor explained to me in a low voice. "He's one of the emperor's personal bankers. I will talk to him and then you will give him the sealed letter the emperor gave you..."
Aemilius Trebutius Flaccus chose that moment to make his entrance. He was a tall a man with a physique more adequate for a professional wrestler than a banker, and a beaked nose. He was dressed in fine white wool worth of a senator's toga and in his right hand he sported a huge signet ring. The banker was followed by two secretaries, educated slaves or freedmen who knew everything about their master's deeds and probably kept the emperor's chief of spies well informed about his whereabouts.
That's the way things work in Rome.

"Cornelius Crassus! What a pleasure to see you again! How's the Divine Marcus Aurelius? I offered a fat goose to Jupiter when I knew he was alive!"
"The emperor is in good health, the gods be praised, and will return to Rome as soon as he deals with certain affairs that require his personal intervention," answered the quaestor in a pleasant tone which left no doubts about what he thought of the man.
The banker looked at me briefly then his eyes flew again to Cornelius Crassus. Men seldom take their wives -- and never their mistresses -- with them when they visit bankers. For sure Aemilius Trebutius Flaccus was well aware about the quaestor's bachelor status and no mistress went around Rome escorted by six praetorians. Not at least in Marcus Aurelius' days. The man was clearly at a loss and he didn't like it.
Cornelius Crassus, instead, seemed to enjoy the situation. "Aemilius Trebutius Flaccus," intoned the quaestor in his best orator's voice offering me a glimpse of his future at the senate if his family could afford a place there for a second son. "Imperator Caesar Marcus Aurelius Antoninus Augustus highly regards you and the services you have always faithfully provided him and his family, services for which you have always been handsomely rewarded. Today, he requires your help, as his banker and subject to solve a problem which is of the utmost importance to his Divine Person."
The banker nodded in silence and ushered us to his office, sent his secretaries away and closed the doors, leaving the praetorians, Rufa and my kitten outside.

Shortly after, the man was looking wide eyed at the unrolled scroll on his huge desk. Cornelius Crassus stood in front of it looking pleasantly at the banker as I remained sitting on a stool, feeling as clumsy and inadequate as usual. Neither men had addressed me since we had entered the room.
The quaestor coughed and Aemilius Trebutius Flaccus raised his head.
"The money will be deposited in the lady's name immediately..."
"I guess the lady will be provided with the usual bank box," said Cornelius Crassus. The banker nodded vigorously and rang for a secretary. When the man arrived, he heatedly instructed him about the box where my wealth was going to be safeguarded. The secretary was a thin man with Eastern features and melancholic dark eyes. He looked at me briefly and then bowed and left the room.
Aemilius Trebutius Flaccus turned to Cornelius Crassus. "I will give you the key today but the signet ring to authorize transactions will demand a few days. I will have it delivered at your home when it's ready." The quaestor nodded graciously. "How else can I be of service to the emperor?"
"The lady needs a place to live. The emperor would be very grateful if you'd help her establish in Rome."
"Am I to understand the lady has no family?"
"No, she hasn't."
"Well... my wife's sister is a widow ..."
"The emperor would like the lady to be comfortable and safe."
"My sister-in-law lives in a country villa."

I knew enough about Roman society to be aware that a decent, free woman is expected to humbly look at the floor and remain silent while males discuss her as if she was but a piece of furniture. A few weeks ago I had been but a slave. And a whore. A Roman matron and her slave cook had but only needed a look at me to know I may be free but I was not decent. She'd treated me like scum and he'd tried to take advantage. Now, a patrician and a banker played the charade of male superiority and I was supposed to play that of female modesty.

"I'm sure she will be happy to serve the emperor by accommodating the lady..."
"The lady doesn't want to be accommodated or to be taken in a country villa by a widow who doesn't want her there and would treat her like trash. The lady can think and speak for herself and knows perfectly what she wants."

My voice sounded perfectly reasonable and absolutely calm. Both men looked at me in two variations of astonishment. Cornelius Crassus' was mixed with warm hints of admiration and amused disbelief. The banker's, with incredulity.
In their world, women don't argue or contradict men.
They simply cheat or manipulate.

I fixed my eyes on Aemilius Trebutius Flaccus. I knew they were cold and hard. As hard as they had been when I had pressed Eugenia to help me help Maximus.
"I want an apartment in a quiet, secluded place. Four rooms at least. Airy. Clean. Inner plumbing."
The banker looked briefly at Cornelius Crassus then again at me. I went on hammering my demands.
"I have a cat. I don't want to be bothered about it. And I want to move immediately."

Aemilius Trebutius Flaccus looked again at the quaestor but seeing he was not going to get help there, turned back to me.
"Domina ... I... I think I can help you."
He paused. I didn't answer. He went on.
"I happen to own an apartment building at the Quirinale... a decent, clean, safe place."

I knew the Quirinale. Nice enough to make the horrors of Subura sound unreal but not posh enough to remind me of what happened behind closed doors at the patrician houses in the Palatine Hill. Many a prosperous merchant and wealthy provincial lived there. Emperor Vespasian's family had kept its Roman home at the Quirinale before their illustrious son had marched towards the Palatine.
I remained silent.
"It's a small building, only five apartments. One on the second floor is empty. I'm sure it's up to your expectations."
I still remained silent.
"I... I'd be happy to be of service to the emperor by lending it to you for as long as you want it."
"I don't want you to lend it to me but to rent it. Name the price."
Now I was bragging. I didn't know enough about prices to know what was reasonable and what not. Cornelius Crassus seemed on the brink of coming in my rescue. Something in my eyes prevented him to do so. Aemilius Trebutius Flaccus rang for his secretary again and asked for the keys.

Half an hour later, the praetorians escorted our curious parade -- which now included the banker and his secretary -- to the Quirinale. The apartment had been empty for a year. It was dusty but in fair condition. It had six rooms and a small bath. There was also a nice terrace overlooking the lovely inner garden of the apartment which occupied the complete first floor. It was sunny and airy and there were some old pieces of furniture in it which looked strong enough to offer some more services. The banker talked about the advantages of living in a safe neighbourhood which was patrolled by night and populated by nice people who owned nice homes. I didn't pay attention. I was too busy envisioning my first ever home.

Two hours later, I returned to Silvia Cornelia's home for a last night there before moving in the following morning. I carried with me the iron key of my bank box, a purse full of coins and the receipt for my first year's rent payment. The banker had given me the apartment for what I suspected was a pittance for he was still unsure about my relationship with the emperor and his favor was worth more than any gold. I didn't object. Too many men had taken advantage of me and he'd be repaid. He promised to send the contract and the signet ring through Cornelius Crassus. I nodded and left his home. Only when Silvia Cornelia's doorman opened the door of her house I noticed that I was grinning like an idiot.

That night, I barely could sleep. I packed and unpacked, took mental note to buy myself some more practical -- and discreet -- clothes and piled up some especially scandalous ones to discard. As the one in charge of the pleasure slaves at Cassius' household, I had the small coffer which kept the jewels used to adorn us at parties and more private encounters. I had completely forgotten it and was surprised to find the jewels among my belongings. This would have to go too but, as with my whoring clothes, it would have to wait till I could get to a sewer. On second thought, I opened the box which kept my own jewels -- small presents given to me by some men -- and I tossed them into the other coffer. I only kept one piece, a small gold chain with a little Egyptian pendant -- a gold and enamel scarab with the golden disc of the sun between it's antennae--, that the senator's fourteen-year-old son had given to me as a boyish parting gift.

As I packed, Rufa kept to herself. She remained sitting on the bed, clutching the kitten in her arms as she looked at me and the fuss I was making around the room with patiently suffering eyes. The Numidian girl was a good servant. Even at her tender age, she knew that her mistress was making a fool of herself and that she could have done the packing more quickly and efficiently than her. And she was making clear that she had not been displaced but chosen to let me make a fool of myself. Vaguely amused I thought that she had a bright future ahead at the imperial palace.
She moved from the bed only once, when she silently offered me the Greek sponges' pouch that she had rescued from Rubia's claws and teeth but not before the kitten had time to dutifully chew the leather. I thanked her absently and was going to put the pouch in the coffer that contained the discarded stuff but something stopped me. I closed my fist into a ball and crushed the once all important sponges while a cold smile spread on my face.

Cornelius Crassus came for me immediately after breakfast, a meal that this time -- not surprisingly at all -- was abundant and delivered at my room in perfect timing. When I came down the stairs, Silvia Cornelia was sullenly standing by her brother... as I knew she'd be: she may have refused to have me introduced and done her best to make my life miserable but there was no way she was going to risk not being there in case I chose to complain to Cornelius Crassus. If the quaestor was vexed about being charged by his emperor with a moving, he didn't show it. Instead, he greeted me with his unnerving politeness and asked me if I was ready to go.

I agreed with the same politeness and then turned around to face Silvia Cornelia and smiled. "Domina, let me thank you for your kindness. You've been a most gracious hostess and my permanence in this house a most pleasant one... I know courtesy demands a gift from the guest to the hostess but I have just arrived to Rome and had not had time to establish myself. Yet sometimes good advice is a far more precious gift than silver or gold ..."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cornelius Crassus frown.
He knew I was after something and that something was not good.
Not good at all.

"So let me give you a little piece of advise, Silvia Cornelia. As it is obvious from your condition -- and that litter worth of a drunken river boatman's wife you call your children -- that you are not good at keeping your husband away from your bed, you should at least try to learn how to enjoy his attentions. It'd do wonders for your mood and beauty and also help keep you younger than your ... thirty years?"
I heard her gasp but continued to smile pleasantly to the bewildered matron.
"Yet if you find the task too overtaxing for your patrician brain, at least learn how to prevent him getting you pregnant every time you wean your last pup."
I threw the leather pouch containing my sponges at the feet of the bewildered woman, turned around, took the cat from Rufa's arms and exited the house.
Cornelius Crassus snorted as men do when they try to muffle their laugh and quickly mastered himself but not before I caught a glimpse of his bemused, admiring expression.
As I reached the door, I heard the muffled giggle of the doorman.
Only Silvia Cornelia remained silent.