Claudia, Wife of Pontius Pilate: A Novel (3 page)

 4 

T
here were two small windows in the coach, and in spite of her anguish, Claudia found herself looking out at things she’d been unable to experience while confined in the villa. They passed through the marketplace, alive with the sounds of goats bleating, birds squawking, and merchants calling out for people to buy their wares. She smelled the bread, hung in long narrow loaves, and the tangy fragrance of onions and garlic. Baskets of crisp apples, juicy plums, and quinces lent their colors to the variety of foods. Claudia had never seen such bounty.

The coach stopped in the shade while the captain bought white bread, olive oil, some honey to mix with wine, hazelnuts, grapes, and two apples and brought them to the coach.

On the road, villagers stepped aside to let the coach and soldiers pass. Some glanced up, their eyes wary. Others gazed at the ornate wagon with open curiosity. They didn’t know who was in the coach, but it was someone important.

Claudia wrinkled her nose. The heavy smell of fish filled the coach as they passed the fish market.

Her grandmother was keeping a close eye on her and, when Claudia was on the verge of tears again, would point out something for her granddaughter to observe.

“The sea is so vast, and so many shades of blue. It is calm now,
but when the storms come up, it can be hard on a ship, for the waves are very large.”

The wind drafts from the Tyrrhenian Sea wafted through the coach. Claudia lifted her chin, remembering the times she had smelled the sea from the window of her room. Once the road passed so close to the shore she could see the waves crashing on the beach.

“How far must we travel, Grandmother? It is so hot.”

“As I recall, when I came from Rome to Reggio, it was around five hundred kilometers. It will take several days of travel.” Scribonia sniffed. “We will get there tomorrow at this speed!”

The captain drove his men at a steady pace. The roads, the pride of Rome and succeeding emperors, were relatively smooth. The large stones that topped the clay and gravel bed had been fitted carefully, sloping down from the center so rain would run off.

They passed
mansios
, where fresh horses could be procured, but the captain did not stop. He kept up his pace until they reached a second mansio, offering food and lodging.

The next morning, after little sleep, Scribonia combed Claudia’s hair and bound it up in a knot at the nape of her neck. After a very unsatisfying breakfast, they were glad to be on the road again.

Her grandmother took something on a chain out of her cloth bag and held it out to Claudia. It was a ring of bright silver in which two vines intertwined. Two small emeralds imbedded glittered in the sunlight.

“Your mother had a premonition and asked me to give this to you if anything happened to her.”

Claudia looked down at the ring. “It is beautiful.” Something to remember her mother by. “I’ve never seen her wear this.”

“She had her own reasons.” Her eyes held Claudia’s. “It was given to her by your father.”

Claudia’s eyes widened. “My father? Who was he, Grandmother?” She leaned forward and waited.

“I truly don’t know, child. There were other men besides Gracchus, Claudia, do not set your heart on one. Keep this to yourself. If anyone asks, say only it was a gift from your mother.”

Claudia sighed and nodded her head, fingering the ring as she looked out the window of the coach. She would keep it forever.

When they stopped again to rest the horses, Claudia was grateful to be able to stretch her legs and let Felix sniff around in the grass. Some of the younger soldiers looked at her and whispered among themselves. Coarse laughter followed and she felt uncomfortable. Other than Cato, she had not been around men. Her mother made sure she was in her room or the garden when a Roman soldier was in the villa.

Scribonia took her arm and drew her away into a small copse of trees to relieve herself. As they approached the coach again, Claudia kept her eyes down and, picking Felix up, quickly climbed into the coach.

“Why do they look at me like that, Grandmother?”

“Because you no longer have the body of a child, Claudia. Have you not noticed?”

Claudia looked down. She had been aware she was no longer flat-chested but had no means to look at herself further.

“You have experienced the time of women. You are young, but your body is now capable of carrying a child. In two years you will be married.” She gave a huff of irritation. “At least I hope Tiberius will see to that for you.”

The next mansio where they stopped for the night had a little more to offer. When the innkeeper saw the ornate coach, he gave them his finest room and brought out his best meal—broiled fish and fresh fruit, along with the white bread Claudia enjoyed.

Scribonia looked carefully around their room for any signs of the unwanted creatures she’d seen in the last mansio and couldn’t find even a spiderweb. She nodded with satisfaction, and this time they got a good night’s sleep.

Before they left, her grandmother spoke to the captain about the men staring at Claudia. He listened and walked over and ordered his men to look the other way when the girl was out of the coach. The threat of the emperor’s displeasure was enough to deter them.

After two days of being shaken by the rapid pace of the coach, Scribonia finally approached the captain.

”We travel with great haste. Is it to deliver us in as short a time as possible or do you fear we are in danger somewhere along the road?”

She waited while he regarded her for a moment, his face bland. Scribonia had given him no trouble and had not complained, but when the captain looked away, Claudia thought for a moment he would not answer.

Then he gave a small shake of his head. “There is no danger that we know of. I wish to accomplish my mission for the emperor as soon as possible.”

When she continued to regard him, he hesitated, looking off in the distance. “My wife expects a child at any time. We’ve lost two children at birth.”

Scribonia smiled kindly. “I see. Then I will pray for your wife’s well-being, Captain Laurentius, and for a healthy child.”

“Thank you.” He thought a moment. “I wish to ask forgiveness for my attitude when I arrived at the villa, Lady Scribonia. I was under the impression that I would find a different situation.”

“You are forgiven. I can imagine what you expected, given the gossip at court.”

He gave her a wry smile but was silent.

As they rode, Claudia considered the captain’s abrupt question back at the villa as to whether she was a virgin. She realized it meant in some way that she had never been with a man. What would she be doing with a man if she had been with one? How did that mean she could bear children? She glanced at her grandmother, fearful of asking the wrong question and bearing her grandmother’s anger. Yet, if the emperor arranged a marriage for her in two years, there were
things she needed to know. Why had her mother or grandmother never talked to her about this? Claudia gathered her courage, and blurted out her question.

Scribonia frowned. “Your mother has not spoken to you of this? She promised me!”

Claudia hung her head. “No, Grandmother.”

Scribonia regarded Claudia for a moment. “Well, you should be told what you need to know before marriage, for your own protection. There are men at the court who would find a young virgin worthy of more than a passing interest.”

Claudia leaned forward expectantly to listen.

 5 

W
hen grandmother finished, many things became clear. Her mother had given birth to her, but there had been no brothers or sisters. Why not? There must be some way a woman could prevent children if she chose. Claudia decided she would never have children. They either died or were wrenched away. Would that be her own fate—married off to a man old enough to be her father, just to get rid of her? The emperor had taken responsibility for her, but what did he have in mind? She put her fearful thoughts away from her and as she watched the scenery go by, she contemplated the amazing and somewhat frightening things grandmother had just told her.

The fifth day they passed outlying villages, and when they stopped midday to rest and refresh themselves, Claudia could see the walls of the city of Rome gleaming in the distance.

“Why did the emperor send for me when he hated my mother so?”

“I don’t believe he means you harm, child. He would not have gone to the trouble to bring you all the way to Rome.”

“Can you come to the palace with me, Grandmother?”

“The emperor ordered me to return to my own villa and that is what I must do.”

“Will you be able to visit me?”

“That is up to Tiberius. It is possible.”

Claudia studied her hands, resting in her lap. The scene with the soldiers dragging her mother away from her down the hall haunted her. “What do you think has happened to, to . . .” She could not finish the sentence for the tears that suddenly pooled in her eyes.

Claudia could see that her grandmother was close to tears herself.

“She was near death when we left, child. I don’t know. At least she has Medina and Cato. They will see to her when the time comes.”

“I miss her, Grandmother. Why would they not let me say goodbye to her?”

“The hatred and anger of Tiberius. He would strike back at her any way he could.”

“Because of things my mother did?”

Scribonia stiffened. “There are certain matters best left alone, Claudia. Do not mention your mother in the palace. You could incur the wrath of Tiberius against yourself. He is being benevolent toward you now because of your grandfather. Don’t create problems.”

Claudia nodded and wiped the tears with the corner of her shawl. Medina and Cato would take care of her mother—her grandmother said so. Claudia sat up a little straighter. She would show Tiberius that she could behave like the granddaughter of an emperor.

As they entered the city itself, its sheer size overwhelmed her. Everywhere people seemed to be hurrying. They passed other carpentums like theirs being driven through the streets as well as litters, carried by slaves. She saw Asian faces with almond-shaped eyes and men and women with dark skin from the African continent as well as Roman citizens going about their business. Everyone seemed in a hurry.

Her grandmother pointed out marble buildings that Augustus had built when he was emperor. “We are approaching the Palatine where the palace is situated.”

“I am frightened, Grandmother. Please do not let me go to the emperor alone.”

“You must be brave, Claudia.”

Claudia balled her fists. “I hate him for what he did to my mother.”

Scribonia took her by the shoulders and gripped them tightly. “Do not be foolish enough to vent your feelings to the emperor. He has the right of
paterfamilias
, supreme master over your life. The gods have brought you here for a reason. You must pray, seek your destiny, and they will protect you. You must obey Tiberius at all costs.”

Claudia hung her head. She had seldom been the recipient of her grandmother’s anger.

“Yes, Grandmother. I will do as you say.”

Scribonia sat back in the coach. “When you are settled, I will come to see you.”

“Will Medina come to Rome?”

“I have found Medina to be extremely resourceful over the years. There will be a way.”

The coach came to an abrupt halt. The captain barked orders to his men.

Claudia looked out at a flight of stone steps leading up to the most beautiful building she had ever seen. The door of the coach opened and the captain gestured toward the entrance of the building.

“The palace of the emperor. Please alight and follow me. Servants will take care of your possessions.”

Claudia clutched Felix. “Even my dog?”

The captain suppressed a smile. “It will be taken to your new quarters. You will see it again there. You may not enter the presence of the emperor with an animal.”

A large Nubian slave approached the coach and, after a few words from the captain, nodded and reached for the dog as other slaves gathered her belongings. Her grandmother pointed out her own possessions, to be left with the coach.

They followed Captain Laurentius into the entrance hall, and Claudia
looked around her with wonder at the beautiful mosaic floor and the statues placed in alcoves. They passed into a large courtyard with a glistening pool in the center. The captain led them toward another archway into a small waiting room.

A figure came to the doorway. “Captain Laurentius. You have returned with your charges.”

The captain saluted, striking his heart with his fist in respect. “I have. As ordered, I have brought the Lady Scribonia and Claudia Procula, the granddaughter of Emperor Augustus.”

He turned to the women. “This is Lucius Aelius Sejanus, prefect of the Praetorian Guard and advisor to the emperor.”

Scribonia acknowledged Sejanus with a nod, and Claudia caught something in her grandmother’s face that troubled her. Claudia bowed her head in respect, and when she looked up again, the man was regarding her thoughtfully.

“So you are Julia’s daughter. You will find the palace a far cry from Reggio.”

The tone of his voice made Claudia wonder what he meant and his perusal of her made her uncomfortable. She suppressed a shudder. Something told her to be on her guard.

Sejanus waved them toward the door, indicating they were to enter the reception room where Tiberius waited.

Claudia’s heart pounded as she approached the man her mother feared so much—the man who had given the order to separate her from her mother. The emperor was heavily built with broad shoulders and appeared to be of average height. His hair hung down his neck, and the eyes that regarded her were unusually large. His expression seemed neither gruff nor pleasant.

He watched them approach and held up a hand for them to stop. After studying Claudia intently for a moment, he beckoned her to come closer.

Glancing over at the captain, he nodded his head. “You have made good time, and brought your charges safely. You are dismissed.”

“Majesty.” The captain saluted and left the room. Claudia sensed he was eagerly heading home to his pregnant wife. She hoped he would be in time.

The emperor turned his attention to Scribonia. “We meet again. What has she learned in your care?”

Her grandmother lifted her chin slightly and looked directly at the emperor. “She reads and writes Latin, and is capable of simple mathematics. She embroiders well, and has helped with the weaving of cloth under our slave, Medina.”

Tiberius looked thoughtful. “I can see Augustus was wise in allowing you to remain in Reggio.”

As Claudia listened, it occurred to her that truly it had been her grandmother who taught her the things she knew. Her mother had been kind, occasionally loving, but occupied more with herself.

Sejanus regarded Claudia. “She is tall and well proportioned. Pleasing to the eye. If you adopt her as you stated, my lord, she will be a worthy match for the man of your choice.”

Claudia bristled. Must they speak of her as if she were not there? Her grandmother gave her a warning glance.

Scribonia spoke up, her voice quiet and carefully respectful. “The child was concerned as to your purpose for bringing her here, Majesty, as was I.”

“She is the granddaughter of Augustus and therefore it was not expedient to let her languish in Reggio. I’m gratified to learn she has not followed the path of her mother.”

Claudia struggled to hold back angry tears. “My mother loved me and was kind to me. I was not even allowed to say goodbye to her.”

Her outburst seemed to amuse Tiberius, but then his face hardened. “You have spirit. That is good, but your life is in my hands and I shall do as I promised your grandfather before his death. You shall be instructed in matters of the court and a suitable husband will be found for you. There shall be no more outbursts.”

As his eyes pierced hers, Claudia heard the edge in his tone and realized her error. This was not a man to anger.

He turned to her grandmother. “You are free to return to your family villa.”

Scribonia bowed her head in submission, then turned and briefly put a comforting hand on Claudia’s shoulder before leaving the room.

Tiberius clapped his hands and a servant appeared. “Milo, take the girl to her quarters and assign a slave girl to her.”

The servant bowed low, and Claudia, after a last anguished look at her grandmother’s receding figure, walked slowly after him.

She looked up at the beautiful frescos painted on the walls they passed and marveled at the variety of mosaic tiles in the floors. She hurried to keep up with Milo wondering at the labyrinth of corridors they followed.