The Raven and the Rose (26 page)

“He could turn us in at any time!”

“Not if he ever wants to be free.”

“Julia, I am Caesar’s man. I have many enemies through my association with him. Didn’t it ever occur to you that this Gaul could be bribed by one of the people who would like to see me exiled to Illyria or sentenced to the galleys?”

“Marcus, servants were barging in here every time you came to me. Did you want that to continue? We needed a watchdog, a lookout, and now we have one.”

“But this Gaul, Julia, what a choice! He’s the nephew of Vercingetorix!”

“There’s another reason he won’t turn us in,” Julia said decisively.

“And what is that?”

 
“He’s in love with Larthia.”

Once again she had his full attention. “Are you certain of that?”

“I am.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at her.”

“And your sister?”

“I think she feels the same.”

“Is she doing anything about it?”

“I don’t know.”

Marcus closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “If they do get together they’ll be committing a crime and no better off than we are. I must say that you and your sister are quite a pair.”

“I hope she does act on her feelings. She was miserable with her husband. I want her to be as happy as we are.”

“With a barbarian?”

“How can I condemn her? Look what I’m doing!”

“But he’s a slave!”

“He wasn’t a slave in Gaul, Marcus,” Julia said quietly. “He was as noble as Larthia when he was at home in Vienne. His grandfather was Celtillus, the high king of the Arverni. But his side lost.”

Marcus said nothing.

Julia turned to him and draped her arms around his neck. “Do you want to spend the rest of our time together talking about Larthia’s slave?” she asked.

“No,” he replied, and proved it.

* * *

The Ides of March approached, and with it the feast of Anna Perenna, when the Romans crossed the Tiber, symbolically going “abroad into the Etruscan countryside.” The custom was to picnic on the opposite bank of the river, building huts of wattles or erecting canvas tents in which to eat
frigididati,
cold food, and drink wine. The citizens generally indulged to the point where they could barely stagger back across the bridge at sundown. They besieged the goddess with prayers to avert the bad luck of the Ides the next day, some actually remaining sober enough to worry about it.

Larthia was sober. She sat in the tent Verrix had erected and watched the procession of Vestals coming across the bridge, picking out her sister in the rear. March featured four of the seven public occasions throughout the year when the Vestals went out as a group, and as soon as Julia was close enough for Larthia to see her face Larthia knew that something was wrong with her sister.

Larthia gestured to Verrix, who was standing a few feet away watching the crowd, which was already beginning to get loud and ornery. He came to her immediately.
 

“Can you leave all this revelry and come away with me, Lady Sejana?” Verrix said dryly in an undertone, his blue eyes smiling into hers.

“Where?” she said, playing along.

 
“Someplace where the differences between us won’t matter,” he said, his expression turning serious.

“And where is that?” she said despairingly, looking away from him, suddenly blinded by tears.

“Out of the republic, one of the colonies, or even beyond the reach of Rome entirely. Rome is not the world, Larthia.”

“It’s my world.”

“Then we’ll find a new one. I can work in the building trade, I learned everything there is to know under Paulinus. You won’t be Lady Sejana outside of Rome, but you can be with me without worrying that I’ll be arrested at any moment.”

She needed to touch him so badly that she folded her hands inside her diploidion. “That’s all I want,” she whispered.

“What are you looking at?” he asked, following the direction of her glance.

“My sister. I want to talk to her. Go over to the Vestals’ hut and give Livia my compliments. Ask permission for Julia to come and visit me.”

He nodded, and Larthia watched him walk away, finally fixing her gaze on something else lest her expression betray her feelings. When she looked back Julia was coming toward her.
 

She was as pale as the new moon.

“What is it?” Larthia muttered, taking Julia’s hands and leading her inside the tent. “You look like death.”

Julia glanced outside, making sure they were alone, before she replied.

“I think I’m pregnant,” she said.

Larthia’s eyes widened, and then she moved in closer to her sister, her voice barely audible. “Are you sure?” she whispered. “You’ve been upset...”

Julia shrugged miserably, not waiting for her to finish. “I’ve never been late with the issue of blood before, not even once. I’m like the Greek water clock, as regular as the sunrise.”

“Anything else?”

“I had a dizzy spell this morning. My nipples are turning darker in color, and they’re sensitive to the touch.”

Larthia closed her eyes. She had been pregnant, and she knew the signs.

“It must have happened the first time I was with Marcus. Is that possible?”

“It’s possible,” Larthia said.

Julia looked like she was going to faint. Larthia put her hand on her shoulder, to steady her.

“Don’t panic. Does Marcus know?”

Julia shook her head. “I wasn’t sure until a couple of days ago. I haven’t seen him since.”

“We’ll find a way to get word to him.”

“How? I dismissed the doctor, I didn’t want to risk any more examinations. I have no reason to come to your house.”

“We’ll think of something. Just try to behave normally or Livia will wonder what is happening with you.”

Julia nodded, taking a deep breath, and then both women groaned aloud as Livia emerged from the Vestal hut and waved to them gaily.

“You’d better get back over there,” Larthia said. “I’ll send Verrix to the Atrium with a message. You can trust him.” She hesitated, then added, “Julia, there’s something I must tell you about him...”

Julia shook her head. “No need. I already know.”

“You know what?”

“That he’s more to you than just a trusted slave,” Julia said simply.

Livia looked over at them again inquiringly.

“Go,” Larthia said, relieved that she didn’t have to go into a long explanation. “I’ll send Verrix to you within two days.”

Julia sailed forth from the tent, a forced smile on her face, and Larthia wondered if her little sister was equal to the challenge she was about to face.

She had to be.

* * *

In the morning, when Julia awoke and nothing had changed, she knew her suspicion was correct. And when she turned away from her breakfast in disgust, making an excuse to Margo that she was still full from the festival the previous day, she wondered how long she would be able to conceal her condition.

Margo did all her laundry. Any change in that custom would bring questions, and it wouldn’t be long before Margo noticed that Julia wasn’t bleeding. Julia might be able to make excuses about her “female complaint” for a while, but Margo was far from stupid. She would report the news to Livia or summon a doctor; either event would bring disaster.

She was sitting at her table, staring sightlessly at the crumbs of bread on her plate, when Margo ran back in from the hall, wearing an expression Julia had never seen before in all the years she had known her.

“What is it?” Julia demanded in alarm, rising.

“Caesar has been murdered!” Margo cried, wringing her hands.

“He was stabbed to death by a group of conspirators in the hall of the Senate this morning. He died at the foot of Pompey’s statue.” Her anguished eyes sought Julia’s. “Your grandfather Casca struck the first blow.”

Chapter 8

“Are you sure it’s not a rumor? Caesar has been reported dead before...”

Margo shook her head. “The body has already been removed to his house by his slaves. There are mobs in the streets, no one knows what the outcome will be...”
 

Julia’s first thought was of Marcus. “Was anyone with Caesar when it happened?” she asked quickly.

“No, no, he was alone, like he was tempting fate! He dismissed the Spanish guard the Senate voted for him, not even the Consul Marcus Antonius or that centurion Demeter were by his side.”

Julia sighed soundlessly with relief.

 
“Oh, this is a calamity!” Margo moaned. “What will become of us?”
 

“My grandfather was one of the assassins?” Julia said with a sinking heart. Where had Casca’s jealousy led him?

Margo closed her eyes and nodded. “Along with Marcus Brutus and Gaius Cassius, and others, some ten or twelve in all.”

“Who told you this?” Julia asked, wondering how long Marcus would be safe. If the conspirators came out on top of this conflict his life would surely be in danger.

“A runner came to Livia Versalia from Mark Antony while I was helping Danuta air the linen. Livia is already in the temple, praying for the safety of the state. She was in tears, you know that she was a great favorite of Caesar’s. The messenger warned us all to stay within the temple precincts. Since Caesar sponsored the Vestals so particularly Antony fears that we may targeted next by the assassins.”

“Where are Caesar’s friends? Who is running the government?”

Margo threw up her hands. “Mark Antony and Lepidus and the others have gone underground, no one knows where they are or what they will do.”

Julia knew what they would do. They would not be underground for very long; they would take action. “What about the Senate?” Julia asked.

“The runner was questioned closely by Livia about that when he was here,” Margo replied. “He said that the conspirators planned to throw Caesar’s body in the Tiber, confiscate his property and revoke all his edicts. But when they saw the panicked response of the Senators, who dispersed in confusion when they heard that Caesar was dead, the assassins fled themselves, using a party of gladiators supplied by Decimus Brutus as a guard and taking refuge in the Capitol.”

“So they are not in charge?” Julia asked.

Margo shrugged. “It sounds like no one is in charge, Rome is now up for grabs. The murderers had hoped the Senate would be relieved by their decisive move and happy that Caesar was dead, not terrified and unable to act.”

 
“The thinking of the assassins is understandable,” Julia said reasonably. “Caesar was always more popular with the average citizen than with the Senate. The Senators resented what they saw as his airs: a golden throne in the Senate house, the new calendar with the seventh month named after himself, the dictatorship with the title of ‘Imperator’ and ‘Father of his Country’ on all his statues and correspondence...”

“The calendar finished him,” Margo interrupted darkly. “March is the first month and always will be, it’s still celebrated that way. And calling the summer month ‘July’ after himself, well...” She shook her head. “It was too much, it defied the gods.”

“You think he was impious?” Julia asked.

“I think he was arrogant. He ignored all the signs and portents or he would still be alive.”

“What signs?” Julia asked.

Margo drew her chair closer to Julia’s and leaned in to whisper conspiratorially.

“He was warned by his wife Calpurnia to stay at home until the Ides of March had passed, to dismiss the Senate until then. She had seen Caesar in dreams several times recently, his body streaming with blood.”

“Who told you that?”

“Danuta. Calpurnia confided in Livia Versalia and asked Livia to pray for him. And that’s not all.”

Julia was too worried about Marcus to be much interested in gossip, but she knew there might be something valuable in what Margo had to say. “What else?” she asked.

“When Caesar took auspices this morning they were unfavorable, but Brutus persuaded him to come in to the Senate anyway, saying that he could talk to the Senators but postpone the business until a better day.”
 

“Such treachery,” Julia murmured. Brutus had been Caesar’s dear friend, like a son to him. Like Marcus.

“When Brutus struck his blow Caesar looked at him and said, ‘You too, my child?’”

Julia said nothing. It was too sad.

“Caesar dismissed Spurinna, the soothsayer who warned him, by saying that the Ides of March had come and he was fine,” Margo added. “Spurinna replied meaningfully that they ‘had come but not yet gone.’”
 

“Where did you get all of this, Margo?” Julia demanded, staring at the servant. “Surely the messenger didn’t share this lurid chatter with Livia.”

“No, I got it from the laundress, Costia, who also works mornings for Calpurnia. Costia was working in Caesar’s house when Calpurnia received word of the murder. The laundress heard all that was said.”