Claudia, Wife of Pontius Pilate: A Novel (6 page)

 10 

J
ulia was dead. Tiberius stood on his balcony, watching the morning haze lift off the city. He held the scroll brought by a courier the night before. Surprisingly his vengeance brought him no pleasure. He’d learned she was dying when he gave the order for her seclusion—and starvation. As he considered the woman who had been his wife, the anger rose again. She was no noble Roman matron, blatantly dishonoring their marriage. Humiliated, he’d angrily left Rome for Rhodes, leaving her father to serve the divorce papers. With her condemnation by the Senate, Augustus did the only thing he could do to save her life. Under sentence from the Roman Senate, he’d banished her to Pandetaria. Why had Augustus relented and let her leave that barren island where she should have remained and allowed her to go to Reggio? She only continued her debaucheries, and now there was the child. Augustus knew about the girl, but did nothing. Tiberius pressed his lips together. Augustus was a foolish old man who, in spite of Julia’s sins, grieved for his daughter until he died. Tiberius shook his head in disgust.

He considered Sempronius Gracchus, one of Julia’s more persistent lovers. The fool had the audacity to try to usurp the throne for Antonius, even requesting a divorce from Tiberius in Julia’s name. Too bad Antonius committed suicide before the soldiers could arrest him
for treason. As for Gracchus, Augustus merely banished him to the African coast. Tiberius smiled with pleasure. As emperor, he meted out his own justice, and Gracchus was dead.

As he gazed out across Rome, another name came to mind unbidden. Vipsania. Just thinking of her renewed the pain. He loved her still—though ordered by Augustus to divorce his pregnant wife to marry the emperor’s prostitute of a daughter. It was as though his heart had been ripped from his body. Vipsania bore a son, Drusus. He should have been heir to the throne, but he was dead of a mysterious illness. He felt the anger rise up again. He never believed that. If he ever found who was responsible—he clenched one fist.

Loneliness crept over his heart like a shadow. He’d never wanted the regency. Sejanus handled so many details for him. Perhaps he could make him a co-regent and leave Rome once and for all for his castle in Capri. The thought pursued him daily. Sejanus on many occasions had insinuated that there were plots against the emperor’s life, and fear had become a dark companion. He rubbed his chin with one thumb. When his prefect brought him names of men he insisted were plotting against his life, he’d dealt with them swiftly, despite their cries of innocence. Their families had been banished from Rome and their worldly goods confiscated by Sejanus.

Tiberius ignored a faint fluttering of regret. Some of these men were of good standing, even senators. He turned his attention to the scroll again. So the old slave, Cato, was dead. No matter. However, there was Scribonia’s slave, Medina, who asked to be returned to her mistress.

He tapped the scroll against his hand. He’d dealt the girl enough heartache. He would not be the one to bear the news of Julia’s death to young Claudia. Someone else would have that duty.

He turned from the balcony and went to the door. The soldier on guard outside saluted.

“Majesty?”

“Bring me the Lady Scribonia.”

Scribonia knew she had little to fear for her upkeep. She was of the praetorian class and the family holdings would insure her being able to live out her last days in comfort. At eighty, she was ready to spend her days in quiet retirement. She thought of her granddaughter and sighed. Claudia was now the emperor’s responsibility.

This morning, she walked in her garden, shivering slightly in the cool air and feeling every bit her age. Her handmaid, Cassia, hurried toward her.

“You have received a summons, Domina, from the emperor.”

A summons?
Why would the emperor send for me? A problem with Claudia?
Then she knew. Julia. Her heart jolted in her chest. Though the anguish nearly overcame her, she braced her shoulders and, with great effort, gathered her emotions in a tight rein. He would not have the satisfaction of seeing her pain.

Cassia slipped a stola of muted blue over her mistress’s shoulders and then a woolen shawl around her shoulders for warmth. Scribonia added a pair of pearl earrings and a silver pendant. With a heavy heart, she went down to the entrance of the villa where the coach waited.

When she arrived at the palace, she was led to an atrium where a fountain seemed to play a melancholy sound as she waited.

When Tiberius entered, she bowed her head. “You sent for me, Majesty?”

He handed her the scroll in silence.

She scanned the contents and the anguish of leaving her daughter alone in Reggio rose again in her heart. She wanted to fling the document in his face. Did he feel any remorse for what he’d put them through? Keeping her face bland, she fought for control. Julia was in the hands of the gods now. Cato was dead. It was too much for his heart. Gathering her thoughts carefully, she focused on the one thing that needed to be done. She looked up at Tiberius.

“Majesty, Medina and I have been together many years. It would
be good to have someone familiar in my old age.” She could not help Julia, but she could protect Medina.

He considered the request a moment. “I will see what can be done.”

“Thank you, Majesty.” She waited again.

He took back the scroll. “It is a sorry task. You will inform your granddaughter.”

“I will tell her.” She bowed her head and followed the steward down the halls she had once walked as Empress of Rome.

She waved the steward away and stood for a moment, deciding just how she would phrase her words. In her eighty years she had seen much death. Unbidden tears welled up behind her eyes and she willed them away. Finally, she drew herself up and, gathering control once again, knocked.

 11 

H
otep opened the door and Claudia looked up from the chair by the window where she was working on an embroidery.

“Grandmother!” She hurried across the room and threw her arms around Scribonia’s neck. “You came to see me.”

Her grandmother not only allowed the embrace, she even returned it briefly. When they parted, there were tears in her grandmother’s eyes. Claudia stepped back, puzzled. She gently escorted her grandmother to a chair where the older woman sank down heavily.

Claudia indicated her maidservant with one hand. “Grandmother, this is Hotep. It means peace in Egyptian.”

Hotep bowed her head. “It is a pleasure to serve the dominilla, my lady.”

Her grandmother nodded in acknowledgment.

Claudia, sensing a purpose in her grandmother’s visit, looked at her face. “You didn’t just come to see me did you?”

“No, child, though I would have come eventually. Tiberius sent for me. He received a courier from Reggio last night.” Her grandmother said quickly, “Your mother is dead.”

The overwhelming pain struck like a dagger in Claudia’s heart and large tears welled up in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. “I knew
it would happen soon, but I haven’t wanted to think about her dying all alone.”

“Medina and Cato were there, even if they could not enter the room. We can only pray that she died quickly.”

Claudia nodded, and then in the haze of her emotions, she realized her grandmother might need something to eat or drink. She had traveled across the city to carry out this abominable errand for Tiberius.

“Hotep, please bring some refreshments.”

The girl bowed her head and hurried out the door. Claudia looked after her, knowing Hotep no longer needed to fear running into the prefect again in the dark hallways. She’d told the empress about the incident but not the perpetrator. Livia told Tiberius and word went out through the palace that Claudia
and
her maidservant were under his protection. The warning no doubt reached the ears of Sejanus.

Claudia wiped her eyes with a corner of her stola. “Oh Grandmother, I miss her.” Both women were silent a moment, sharing their mutual sorrow. Then Claudia looked up. “Medina and Cato? What will become of them now?”

Scribonia hesitated. “Cato had a weak heart. He is dead also.”

Claudia gasped. Dear old Cato. She thought of the many times she’d watched him lovingly plant flowers in their garden.

Her grandmother spoke again. “Medina wishes to return to me. I have petitioned Tiberius to let her do so. Now tell me what you have been doing since I left you here.”

Claudia wrenched her mind from thoughts of her mother and dutifully told her grandmother about the dinner with Tiberius, meeting with the empress, and going to the Roman baths.

“Livia was hard on your mother. Does she treat you well?”

“Yes, she’s been kind to me.”

Scribonia nodded. “Are you allowed out of the palace for any other reason?”

“I may go to the marketplace with Hotep, but I must have a bodyguard.”

“That is good. It could be dangerous for two young women alone.”

Hotep returned with the wine and some fruit and cheese. As Scribonia sipped the diluted wine, she studied the maidservant over the rim of her cup. When she had finished the wine in silence, she put down the cup and slowly rose from the chair.

“I must return to my villa now. I have matters to attend to there,” Scribonia said.

Claudia followed her to the door. “Shall Hotep guide you?”

Scribonia raised her eyebrows. “I knew the way around the palace before she was born, child. I can find my own way out.”

Claudia put a hand on her arm. “Grandmother?”

“Yes?”

“She liked to . . . laugh, didn’t she?”

Her grandmother covered Claudia’s hand with her own. “Yes, your mother liked to laugh.” Then she turned and hurried down the hall.

Claudia watched her go and put a hand on her heart, as if by pressing very hard, she could stop the ache inside.