Claudia, Wife of Pontius Pilate: A Novel (8 page)

“I’m sure Grandmother is glad to have you back, aren’t you?”

Scribonia huffed. “Of course—I sent for her, didn’t I?”

Claudia suppressed a smile. “How are you feeling, Grandmother?”

“I am feeling my age. Too many aches and pains, but I am not ready for the gods to call me yet.”

Her grandmother’s candidness was one of the things she loved about her.

Her grandmother eyed her sternly. “How are you getting along with Livia?”

“The empress is kind to me.”

Scribonia nodded. “She has done many good things for the poor of Rome. They speak well of her.”

The compliment seemed grudgingly given, but Claudia only nodded.

When they had finished their refreshment, Claudia suggested a walk in the extensive garden. They strolled for a while and then sat by the fountain.

Scribonia looked around. “Where is your small dog?”

Claudia hesitated and looked past her grandmother to Hotep. How much did she dare say? “He, uh, became ill, Grandmother. I lost him.” Well, part of it was the truth.

“I’m sorry, child. I know he meant a great deal to you.”

“Yes.” She didn’t want to dwell on Felix.

Scribonia seemed restless, and as the shadows began to creep up the walls of the garden, she rose to go home. Claudia put her hand out and Scribonia covered it between her own. Then Claudia embraced Medina a last time. It had been a wonderful birthday present.

After they had gone, Claudia found herself thinking of Medina and was reminded of her mother. She opened the small chest with her special treasures, fingering the ring her mother had given her. Her grandmother said it belonged to the man who was her father, but since it appeared that all of her mother’s suitors were dead, the question of who he was would remain forever unanswered. She sat looking at the silver ring, turning it this way and that in the light as the emerald stones sparkled. Finally, she put it back in the chest. It was as close as she would ever be to the shadowy figure in her mind of the man who was her father.

 13 

A
t the end of Claudia’s fifteenth year, word came that Tiberius and Sejanus were once again away from the palace on imperial business. Tiberius seldom went anywhere without Sejanus at his side. He spent less and less time in Rome. Everywhere, next to the statues of Tiberius, were statues of Sejanus. Some even prayed to Sejanus and celebrated his birthday. His favor was courted by senators and those of the praetorian rank.

Sejanus made the most of his place of favor, making changes. The Praetorian Guard, once just a small bodyguard for the emperor, was being built into a formidable force, and if the emperor was aware, he did not reveal it. Sejanus wanted the Praetorian Guard to be a powerful and influential branch of the government. Servants who listened quietly in the background at meals with Sejanus said he spoke to the emperor of having the guard oversee public security, civil administration, and even handle political intercession. The health of the emperor was not good and he agreed to any suggestion within reason from his prefect.

Claudia knew that since Sejanus was the second most powerful man in the entire empire, he would also influence the emperor in regard to her marriage. There was no doubt that whatever her future held, the choice would rest, not in the hands of the emperor, but in the man she hated more than the emperor.

Most young Roman women of high standing were married by the time they were fifteen, and Claudia grew restless. On one hand she longed to be out of the palace with a home of her own, but on the other hand, she dreaded being told she was going to marry someone years older than herself for political reasons. She thought of her mother’s marriages and how she was used as a political pawn by Augustus. Would she end up like her mother? Claudia made offerings to Venus, praying with all her might for a good husband who would at least be kind to her.

Her grandmother brought Medina to visit as often as possible. Sometimes Claudia and Hotep met them in the marketplace. The mute slave, Horatio, silently watched, his dark eyes taking in everything around them.

With the freedom of a small allowance, Claudia could now shop for things that brought her pleasure. Sometimes she bought sweet rolls from the street of the bakers, sometimes a new pair of sandals.

Claudia now met the empress at the baths instead of accompanying her. Livia was in ill health and many days could not leave her quarters. Claudia didn’t mind the absence of the empress, for when her grandmother and Medina came to the baths, the atmosphere was not strained.

Tiberius, already known to be moody, was becoming more withdrawn and had been threatening more often to leave Rome for his palace on Capri.

The standing of Sejanus with the emperor was solidified, for Tiberius had no successor. He had little contact with his nephews. His two sons were dead and here was Sejanus, a man he saw every day, supremely efficient, trustworthy, and an able administrator.

Claudia prayed to the gods for the health of Tiberius, for the
thought of Sejanus succeeding him filled her with dread. The prefect had not bothered Hotep again, but what would happen if the protection of the emperor’s presence was withdrawn? The times when Claudia joined the emperor for an evening meal, Sejanus watched her from under those bushy brows. To her shock and surprise, he divorced the gentle Apicata and was petitioning the emperor to marry Levilla. Claudia felt badly for Apicata and the children, but there was nothing she could do.

The palace gossip held that Sejanus and Levilla were having an affair, but the emperor could not know or he would have acted against Sejanus. If the prefect married the widow of the emperor’s son, Drusus, it would solidify his position with the emperor even more. Everyone in Rome believed the implications that he would become the emperor’s successor. For his own reasons, the emperor had denied the marriage request, but Sejanus was a man who bided his time. Sooner or later Claudia felt the emperor would give in and let them marry.

Soon after her sixteenth birthday, her third year in the palace, Claudia was surprised by a summons to have dinner with the emperor on what was becoming one of his rare stays in the palace. The palace was full of intrigue and those who had enjoyed favor one day found themselves in disgrace or worse the next. She dressed carefully in a soft white linen tunic with a silver belt around her chest, silver sandals, and some small pearl earrings.

Her heart pounded as she entered the dining room.

“Ah, Claudia. It is good of you to join us.”

As Tiberius welcomed her, his face seemed melancholy in spite of the smile he wore. He watched silently while a slave removed her sandals and handed her the warm wet cloth to wash her hands.

“It is kind of you to have me join you, Majesty. I trust your last trip was successful?”

“It was.”

She felt the emperor had something on his mind but was forced to wait patiently through the meal for him to unburden himself. They dined on cucumbers and cabbage in a sauce, fresh bread, a selection of cheeses, and succulent roast duck. The wine was heavily diluted as most Romans preferred it.

To her relief, Sejanus was conspicuously missing, and she wondered if he was off on business for the emperor. Levilla had little to say, and the empress came late as usual, leaning on the arm of her handmaiden. She greeted Claudia and bowed her head to the emperor, then ate her meal in silence. She appeared to be watching Tiberius covertly as she ate. It only added to Claudia’s feeling of dread, and while she strove to remain calm, her heart beat erratically.

Tiberius turned to her. “You are in good health, Claudia?”

“Yes, Majesty.”

“And how have you occupied yourself?”

She felt he knew everything she did already, for it was said he had eyes and ears everywhere, but she politely told him what she felt he wanted to hear.

“I thank you for the allowance. I have enjoyed the marketplace. I read and work on my loom and embroidery from time to time.”

“You are proficient at this?”

“Yes, my lord.”

There were long silences in between, and Claudia struggled to keep her impatience under control.

Just as they were finishing dessert, a mixture of plums and cherries served with cream, as if at a signal from the emperor, Levilla and the empress excused themselves.

Tiberius watched them go, his eyes narrowing, then turned to her. “My mother has brought it to my attention that you are of marriageable age and I am remiss in selecting a proper husband for you.” He looked down at his hands, and Claudia noted that they were soft, effeminate. Then he continued. “I have sought the counsel of my prefect and he has made a suggestion. There is someone he has known for
some time—a man who fought in the campaigns of Germanicus and distinguished himself. He is on his way to Rome. You will be apprised when he arrives and will be introduced. I also wish to meet him before making my final decision.”

Claudia’s heart sank. A man suggested by Sejanus? How old was he and what would he look like? She lowered her eyes lest the emperor see the turmoil in them. Instead, she murmured, “I’m sure you will make the right choice for me, my lord.”

Tiberius put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to suddenly look up.

“Your submission and obedience are noted, Claudia Procula. Make yourself ready, for he arrives in two days’ time.”

“Shall I know his name, my lord?”

“Ah yes, a noble praetorian family, descended from Gaius Pontius, a fine general. His name is Lucius Pontius Pilate.”