Claudia, Wife of Pontius Pilate: A Novel (34 page)

 51 

T
he wind caused the leaves on a sycamore tree outside the window to slap against the house. The rain had been falling all day in a steady cadence. As Claudia worked on her embroidery, she watched Doros by the fire, studying his assignment from school. Vitus brought in wood to keep the fire going. Lucius was in his study with the door closed. She sighed as she pulled the thread tighter. He spent too much time alone, and no matter how hard she tried to distract him, his depression grew. Vitus found work in the orchard of a nearby villa and gave all he earned to Lucius. His loyalty to Lucius was deep. Claudia wondered what they would do without his help.

One of the sources of his deep pain surfaced one day when Lucius told her of something else Caligula had said. “He accused me of killing a man who called himself the Son of God and wanted to know how I could willfully murder a man considered a prophet by the Jews. He asked me how it feels to put to death a god. The way he said it made me realize I had lost the trial. The emperor had ignored all our testimony. I can still see Caligula’s face. It was pure evil staring at me.”

Lucius turned a tortured face to her. “It was only a moment, but enough to convince me that Caligula borders on madness.” He shook his head sadly. “Are we safe even here?”

She had done everything she knew to reassure him. “You did not
put him to death, Lucius, the Jewish leaders did. They gave you no choice. They wanted his death.”

She put her arms around his shoulders. “Oh my dear husband, Jesus had to die for all of us. He was the Passover Lamb that was sent for the sins of all of us. He made atonement for us for all time. You must understand. You were part of the plan. He died for you. You are forgiven.”

He reached up and touched her hand. “I do not feel forgiven. I should have done more to save him.”

“You tried four times to save his life, beloved, and they would have none of it. Didn’t they cry, ‘His blood be on our heads and on our children’?”

“I washed my hands of it.” He examined his hands. “But the blood is still there.”

Claudia recoiled. Was he going mad? Could she not convince him?

She took another direction. “Come, dearest, let us retire for the night. You are weary.”

“Yes, I am weary. Weary of many things,” he said tonelessly as she took his arm and led him out of the study.

To her surprise, Lucius made love to her after many weeks of abstinence. She held him and willed him to come back to her, to be the man she had married, a man who could be ruthless and selfish, but infinitely patient with her and a loving husband.

“The rain is a comforting sound, don’t you think?” she asked as she lay with her arm across his chest and her head on his shoulder.

“Yes, a comforting sound.” He was silent and then, “I have been blessed with such a wife. You have courage and strength. Something I seem to have lost along the way. I who strove for prestige, a leader of troops and governor of a Roman province, now reduced to the status of a farmer. I was ambitious, but where has it gotten me? A life in exile, far from the country I served. It is a bleak ending to my career.”

The fear rose again, filling her being so she could hardly breathe. She forced it down. “But you did all those things. More than some
men do in a lifetime. We have a good home here, Lucius, and Doros is doing well in his school. He is intelligent and one day will make us both proud.”

“What if my cousin wishes to return? Where would we go? And what advancement will Doros know? He attends school with the sons of senators and magistrates. He will never wear the toga of the praetorian class and be recognized as a citizen of Rome. Not here in Vienne. He must be able to return to Italy and your family if he has any hope of a life.”

“We cannot do that, Lucius, at least not now. If another emperor takes the throne, we may be able to petition to return. Perhaps even have your lands restored.”

“And when will that be? Caligula reigns supreme, the idol of the people. It could be years, and then it will be too late.”

She put a hand on his cheek and kissed him. “We are together, my Lucius, and that is all that matters to me.” As she moved her hand, it was wet. Was he weeping? She put her arm back across his chest and held him until they both fell asleep.

Perhaps it was the silence of the end of the rain that woke her. She rolled over to Lucius, but his side of the bed was empty. He often rose early and walked in the fields, but something nagged at her mind and she went to put on her warm linen robe. She went downstairs and looked around. Lucius was not in the house, so she sat down in a chair by the fire and began to pray. She beseeched the Lord to heal her husband of this frightful mood, to help him understand the forgiveness that Jesus could extend to him. She was lost in prayer and startled when the door burst open suddenly. It wasn’t her husband, it was Vitus, and with tears running down his cheeks, he held the lifeless body of Lucius in his arms.

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L
ucius! No!” She ran across the room as Vitus gently laid Lucius on a couch. Her husband’s face was pale in death, and she knelt, weeping, to cradle his head in her arms.

“I found him at the edge of the field, my lady. There doesn’t seem to be a wound anywhere.”

“Then how did he die?”

“He has carried great sorrow for a long time, my lady. Either he took poison, or his heart just could not bear the burden any longer.”

She looked up through her tears. “Lucius would not leave us like that. He would not take poison.”

“If he thought you could return to Rome?”

“But I thought—I hoped—we could be happy here. It was not the Villa Ponti, but we could have had a decent life. Why would he do this to me?”

Vitus put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “A man must work, Domina. His self-worth demands it. He had everything taken away from him.”

She rocked back and forth, wrapping her arms around herself. “I needed him. I needed him,” she moaned over and over.

Suddenly there was a sound on the stairs and Claudia looked up
into the face of her son. His eyes were wide with fright as he stared at the body of his father.

Claudia sat observing the small urn that held the ashes of her husband. Doros had endeavored to be strong for her, but he was only a boy. She had withdrawn him from the school, since she needed to reserve any funds from the sale of her jewelry to return to Rome.

Picking up the scroll that had finally come in response to her query, she read that her grandmother’s son-in-law, Paulinus Aemilius Lepidus, learning of her need, had agreed to take them into her grandmother’s villa.

Vitus and Hotep packed only what was necessary, for they had only one wagon now. It was late summer. At least they would not have to travel in bad weather.

“It is time, my lady.” Vitus stood in the doorway.

Hotep came down the stairs with the last small trunk of personal things and handed it to Vitus.

Claudia went out to the wagon and carefully placed Lucius’s urn in the small trunk. Doros sat silently in the wagon—he had not smiled since his father’s death, and spoke little. When the women were aboard, Vitus clicked his tongue at the mules.

Claudia brought the money she’d saved from selling pieces of her jewelry, carrying it in a pouch under her clothing, and prayed for the Lord to watch over their long journey back to Rome.

When at last the city came in sight, Claudia was fearful of what awaited her there. Would the emperor order her to leave? The sentence had been against Lucius, but there were rumors of strange behavior on the part of the emperor after he recovered from a nearly fatal illness. He was not the benevolent young man the people had hailed less than a year before.

When Vitus finally pulled into the courtyard of her grandmother’s villa, Claudia looked up at the huge two-story building and wondered who would come out to greet them.

A servant appeared and eyed their clothing. “The servant’s entrance is around the back,” he said finally.

Vitus helped Claudia down and she drew herself up before the servant. “I am Claudia Procula, granddaughter of the Lady Scribonia.”

The servant, realizing his error, bid her wait and hurried into the villa.

In moments a tall, heavyset man wearing the purple-striped toga of the praetorian rank, came out to meet her.

“Welcome, Lady Claudia. I am Paulinus Aemilius Lepidus, husband of your aunt Cornelia. Come in.” He glanced back at the wagon and noted her simple dress. “This is all you have?”

“It is, my lord. We left Rome with little after the emperor’s edict and now that my husband is dead, I return with little. This was the only transportation available to us, and my husband’s servant has watched over us and brought us safely here. I am in debt to you for your gracious hospitality in our circumstances.”

Doros climbed down from the wagon and came to stand beside his mother.

“This is our son, Doros. He has been a great help to me in our distress.”

The man’s face softened. “These are dark days, Lady Claudia. Many are in your circumstances. You and your son are family and welcome to whatever we can do for you.”

“I shall look forward to meeting Cornelia.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately, she died two years ago.”

She put a gentle hand on his arm. “I am so sorry to hear that.”

“It is as the gods will.”

Her personal things were taken to her grandmother’s old quarters. Doros was led to a smaller room near Claudia’s to refresh himself.

Now she stood on the steps of the villa facing Vitus. “You are leaving us?”

“I promised your husband that I would look after you if something happened to him. You will be safe here, my lady.”

“Where will you go?”

“I wish to seek out my own relatives if any of them are still alive.”

“Then you have my blessing on your quest, Vitus, and thank you for all you’ve done.”

She gave him the wagon and mules and watched him drive away with mixed emotions. Now it was only she and Doros, and Hotep. As she climbed the stairs, she contemplated what to do with Hotep—her maidservant, yes, but a loyal friend. Vitus, a freedman, had stayed out of loyalty. Hotep had no choice. Feeling suddenly bereft, Claudia made her way to her quarters, once again in a home that was not her own.

She sat at dinner with her host, refreshed and dressed as a Roman matron again. She turned to him. “Tell me, Paulinus, what is the latest news of Rome? I have been away so long.”

He glanced around. “Many things are happening, Lady Claudia. We revere our emperor, yet there are strange changes. We walk carefully these days.”

His words were guarded and Claudia caught the warning in his tone.

“Will my presence here cause difficulties for you?”

“I don’t believe so. Friends in the palace keep me informed. However, what I hear causes me to be wary.”

She found herself wondering how long she would be able to impose on his friendship and hospitality.