In the Shadow of the Wall (37 page)
Read In the Shadow of the Wall Online
Authors: Gordon Anthony
“You could try that as well,” Brude agreed. “But wash her first. She needs to keep cool.”
He left the girl, telling her to rest and sleep as much as she could. He thought the fever was abating but he did not really know what was wrong with her so it was hard to tell. The doctors didn’t know either, which was more worrying.
Downstairs, in the shady peristyle garden with its columns and covered walkways, he found Agrippina waiting for him.
Aquila
’s wife was dressed in a long gown of white linen. Her hair was neatly curled and piled on her head in the fashionable style and she was wearing a golden necklace with matching long, gold earrings studded with emeralds. She was dressed as if she was attending a dinner party. One of the household slaves, a young girl called Marcella, was standing patiently beside her, eyes downcast. A large wicker basket lay at her feet.
“Of course, my lady,” he answered. He followed, a discreet pace behind her as she led the way out into the street, the slave girl, Marcella, trailing behind him, carrying the basket as befitted her station.
The day was warm and the streets of the city were crowded and dusty. Agrippina, as usual, barely spoke to Brude although she occasionally turned her head to make sure he was still with her. She wandered through the forum, paying little attention to anyone else and seemingly in no hurry. Brude and Marcella followed her as she eventually made her way to the vegetable market, where she spent a long time picking a selection of fruit and vegetables which she piled into Marcella’s basket. Once the basket was full, she sent the girl home. Then she said to Brude, “I wish to go to the
temple
of
Aesculapius
to offer prayers for Vipsania’s recovery.”
Brude nodded, acknowledging the unspoken command that he would accompany her.
The
temple
of
Aesculapius
lay outside the walls of the city in one of the wealthy suburbs to the north, at the foot of the hill the Romans called the Hortulorum, the Hill of Gardens, because each villa in the district had extensive and well-maintained grounds. The temple of the god of healing nestled there, not far from the Campus Martius where Augustus had his mausoleum, but it was a long walk from the forum and the day was growing very hot. Brude waited while Agrippina paid some silver denarii to the priest to offer a sacrifice to the god, seeking a swift recovery for Vipsania. Brude, despite having listened to Cleon’s tales of Epicurus’ teachings regarding the gods’ utter lack of interest in human affairs, decided it would do no harm to seek some extra help for the young girl so he offered up a silent prayer of his own.
It seemed an even longer and hotter walk back through the city. They sought the shade of the narrow streets as much as they could but Agrippina appeared to be content to wander. To Brude’s surprise, she took a circuitous route back, heading round the northern side of the city. He began to grow concerned. They were in the Subura, near the Viminal hill, one of the poorer parts of the city. The Subura was home to a large Jewish population and had a bad reputation among most Romans, who were generally apprehensive about the Jews. Brude, having often listened to Josephus talking about the traditions and beliefs of his people, was not bothered by the Jewish customs that shocked the Romans so much. He thought them strange but, apart from circumcision, which he had never understood, he at least had some understanding of why the Jews followed the traditions that they did. He remembered Josephus asking why the Pritani painted themselves with the blue war paint, laughing when Brude could not explain it except by referring to tradition. Brude thrust aside y coeminiscences because at that moment the Jews were the least of his problems. The Subura was also home to many of
Rome
’s poor and more violent citizens. A beautiful, high-class lady, dressed in fine clothes and displaying valuable jewellery, was a worryingly easy target. He was about to say something when Agrippina said to him, “Come, Brutus, it is hot. There is a bathhouse nearby where we can freshen up and get something to eat.” Not waiting for any response, simply assuming he would do as she commanded, she turned down a side street which led to a small square where a noisy crowd of children were laughing and playing beside a small fountain. In one corner of the square was a small bathhouse, alive and boisterous with people playing ball in its outer court.
Agrippina strode to the door, ignoring the looks from the locals as they saw her fine clothes and jewellery, but Brude hesitated. He saw the statue outside the bathhouse, a naked goddess standing in a provocative pose. He could read well enough now to understand the writing above the doorway, which proclaimed the name, The Baths of Venus.
He hurried to catch up with Agrippina, gently touching her arm. “My lady, you should not go in here. It is a rough place.”
She turned to look at him, an amused smile playing round her lips. “Are you afraid, Brutus?” she teased. All of a sudden she was no longer the aloof Roman mistress of the household and Brude’s concern for her safety was replaced by an unexpected desire.
He looked down, not meeting her gaze. “I am not afraid for myself, my lady. But for you.”
“Nonsense!” She dismissed the idea of danger. “I have nothing to fear when you are with me.”
“But I will have to wait outside,” he told her. “I cannot escort you inside.”
“Of course you can, Brutus. That is why we are here. The Baths of Venus allow mixed bathing at all times. Now come in with me.” She reached for his hand. He saw the look on her face, recognised the expression in her eyes and he knew he should not go in with her. Her lips were slightly parted and flushed, her tongue rubbing the edges of her white teeth. He was certain that he would be making a terrible mistake if he went inside with her. She leaned close to him, whispering, “People are watching us, Brutus. I insist you come with me now.”
Resisting the temptation she was offering, he hissed, “My lady, I cannot. Your husband…”
“Is far away,” she said. “But if you do not come in with me I will make sure that he hears how you abandoned me in such a dangerous part of the city, first forcing your unwanted attentions on me then running a far when I spurned your advances. Do I make myself clear?” Her voice was low and soft, the words quiet but with iron behind them. He was in no doubt that she meant what she said.
He did not know what to say. She laughed at him. “Am I so ugly that you do not desire me?” she asked him. He shook his head, aware of her beauty, unable to resist her any longer. She pulled his arm and led him inside.
The bathhouse was crowded, men and women sharing the pools, all entirely naked. Agrippina did not remove her jewellery, saying it would be safer than leaving it to be stolen by the slaves who were supposed to watch the patrons’ belongings.
Brude was astonished at how beautiful she was. He had lived in
Aquila
’s house for two years but, although he knew she was attractive, he had seen her as a passive figure who stayed in the background, always quiet and undemanding. He had certainly never guessed the perfection of the figure she kept demurely hidden beneath her gowns. She took him to the cold pool, cooling off after the heat of the sun. She laughed, swimming to him. She had let down her long hair and it lay, wet from the water, plastered about her shoulders. She giggled girlishly as she put her arms around him so that he could feel every contour of her body. “You have no idea how long I have wanted to do this,” she told him. “Come! Let us use one of the small rooms. I can tell you are ready for me.”
All around the pool were small, private rooms, where couples could retire in privacy, each room with a wooden door. She took his hand. Quite unashamed at being naked and in full view of the other bathers, she led him into a room that was free. She closed the door and fastened the bolt. The room contained nothing except a small couch. Agrippina threw her arms around him, kissing him passionately and now he could not help himself. She was no longer
Aquila
’s wife, she was a gorgeous woman with the body of a goddess, a woman who wanted him. He kissed her back, marvelling that she could have been so close to him for so long without him guessing at the passion in her. The change in her was incredible, intoxicating, and irresistible. He picked her up and carried her to the couch. She lay back, wrapped her legs around him and urged him on to ecstasy.
Vipsania knew almost straight away. She was feeling much better and sitting up in bed, propped up by a horde of coloured cushions. She sent the nurse away while Brude sat beside her bed, checking her forehead, which was much cooler. He looked into her eyes and saw they were clear, not heavy, the way they had been. He smiled at her and told her he thought she was well on the way to recovery.
She thanked him but did not seem happy. Studying his face with her large, blue eyes she frowned and said, “You have been with my stepmother.”
Brude tried to cover his consternation. “Yes, we went to the forum and then to the
temple
of
Aesculapius
to offer prayers for your recovery. I see they worked.”
“You don’t believe in the gods any more than Cleon does,” she told him with certainty. “And you know that is not what I meant. You have been with my stepmother…” she searched for a word, “intimately.”
Brude could think of nothing to say in answer. He lowered his eyes so that he did not have to look at her but she reached out her hand, lifting his chin. Instead of accusation, he saw sympathy in her expression. “You are a very clever young woman,” he managed to whisper. “I don’t know what to say. I had no choice.”
“Of course you did,” she said. Despite her youth, she seemed to be the one in charge. “There is always a choice. You could have told her you have the pox. That would have stopped her.”
Brude gave her a weak smile. “I never thought of that.”
“Of course not. You’re a man.” Vipsania spoke with all the self-assured authority of a fifteen-year-old girl. “I don’t think any of you actually use your brains when a pretty woman throws herself at you. And she is very beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Yes she is.”
“Not on the inside, though. She acts all quiet and shy when my father is around; the perfect wife. Well, you have seen that side of her, of course. She plays it very well. But my father’s the same as the rest of you. He won’t see what is right in front of his face. All she has to do is take her clothes off and he believes everything she tells him.”
“How did you know?” Brude asked her.
“You are hard to read, Brutus,” Vipsania told him. “But when you came into the room just now there was something different about you. It wasn’t hard to guess what it was when I heard she had sent Marcella home alone. I thought she would try something with you eventually. I have seen her looking at you.”
“Then you are more observant than I am,” Brude told her. “I didn’t think she had even noticed me that much.”
“She’s a sly one, my stepmother. She is very patient. She never takes many risks. But now that she has got you, you will not escape her easily. I expect she has told you to go to her room tonight?”
Vipsania was horrified. “You must not do that now! The time for excuses is past. If you refuse her now you will find yourself accused of rape. My father will never take your word against hers. You will be sent back to the arena to face the wild beasts without any weapons to save you.”
“Your father would believe you, though,” Brude said, urgently, trying to think of a way out of his predicament.
Vipsania scoffed at that, too. “I am a girl, still wearing my bulla. She is a free born Roman citizen and you are a freedman. Her word carries more weight than either of ours and you know it. She will always convince my father of whatever she wants him to think.” She softened her tone as she took his hand, stroking the back of it gently. “My dear friend, Brutus, you are trapped. There is only one thing you can do now though it breaks my heart to tell you.”
Brude could hardly believe that he was taking advice from a girl as young as Vipsania but she was his friend and she was clever, so he asked her, “What should I do?”
“Go to her room tonight and do what you have to do. After that you can either stay here until she gets bored with you and discards you as she has done with her other lovers or you can leave. I will miss you terribly if you go, but I think that is what you should do for the best. She once had one of the slaves executed after she forced him to become her lover. She grew tired of him when he began to act above his station. She accused him of trying to rape her so the poor man was taken away and thrown to the lions. I do not want that to happen to you.”
“You are a better friend than I deserve,” Brude told her. “You are right. I don’t think I could stay in your father’s house knowing how I have betrayed his trust.”
“You are not the first and you will not be the last,” said Vipsania sadly. “But you are the only one I have wished could have escaped her clutches.”
Just then the door opened. Vipsania hastily let go of Brude’s hand as the nurse came back in. They said farewell formally, under the scathing look of the nurse, who did not approve of him being alone in Vipsania’s room.
That night he went to Agrippina’s bedchamber where he learned that Vipsania was right about her stepmother’s beauty being all on the outside, for even while he was making love to her, Agrippina was whispering warnings of what she could order done to him if he did not please her. To Brude, beautiful as she was, she was less honest than the cheap whores who thronged around the amphitheatr.
“I have decided I would like to accompany your son to
Germania
, sir.”
Aquila
was delighted, thanking Brude enthusiastically. “My wife and daughter will be upset, I expect, but I am pleased you have decided to do this. I know Lucius will be pleased too.”
Brude managed not to react when
Aquila
mentioned his wife. He felt like a traitor, for he had spent the last two nights in the man’s marriage bed doing things with Agrippina, which, she had claimed,
Aquila
had neither the energy nor the imagination for. Brude made his excuses and left the old Roman as quickly as he could.
Cleon was heartbroken when he heard Brude was leaving. He tried to persuade him to stay but Brude’s mind was made up, although he could not tell his friend why. Eventually, Cleon brought out an old map and showed Brude where
Germania
was. He was surprised when he saw how close it was to Britannia. Then he remembered how long it had taken him to walk from Broch Tava to the Wall. When he saw how tiny a distance that was on the map, he realised that
Germania
was still a long way from his home. But, for the first time in months, the thought of home had more appeal than the luxuries of
Rome
.
They left three days later. Lucius was dressed in a breastplate of bronze which portrayed a carving of an eagle across his chest. He wore a red cloak fastened round his shoulders and a helmet with a red horsehair plume. A gladius hung at his right side. He looked every inch the young soldier. Brude wore a tunic and leggings. He, too, had a cloak, a plain one, and a gladius looped over his shoulder to hang at his side, a gift from
Aquila
.
Aquila
had also purchased four horses. Lucius’ belongings were packed onto two of the animals while they had one horse each to carry them the long miles to
Germania
. Brude had only a sleeping blanket and a small pack containing the wooden rudis, his manumission papers and what few coins he had saved, carefully sealed in a waterproof case.
After a brief halt at the
temple
of
Capitoline Jupiter
, to offer a sacrifice for a safe journey, the family came to the gates of the city to see them off. Brude was astonihed to see old Curtius and one-armed Kallikrates from the gladiator school there as well. They hugged him and Curtius had a tear in his eye as he said farewell. Cleon was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks, his old, lined face wrinkled even more than usual. He gave Brude some scrolls. “It’s Homer. Lucius will be able to help you with any words you cannot make out. I think you will enjoy it.”
“I will read every word, my friend,” Brude promised him.
Vipsania kissed both of them on the cheeks. Brude whispered his thanks to her. “I will not forget you,” he told her.
“Nor I you,” she answered softly.
Then Agrippina embraced Lucius, kissing his forehead. She turned to Brude and embraced him as well, pressing herself against him. “I will miss you,” she whispered.
“And I you, my lady.” He had been afraid she would denounce him to
Aquila
but, when he had told her of his plan to accompany Lucius, she had simply smiled and said, “I know, my love. Why do you think I let you into my bed? It is best that you go now before things become difficult.” He knew that he meant nothing to her. Vipsania was right about her and he guessed that someone else would soon take his place. For the moment, though, Agrippina was once again the chaste Roman lady he had known before. Now, feeling the hidden promise beneath her gown, he was glad that he was leaving. Life would become far too complicated if he stayed.
Aquila
shook his hands warmly, thanking him for his service as he handed him a small pouch of coins. “A little something extra for you,” the old Roman said, making Brude feel even worse about his betrayal of the man. It was as if he was being paid for sleeping with
Aquila
’s wife.
He climbed onto his horse then clumsily followed Lucius away from the city, along the Via Aurelia, heading north. They turned to wave farewell to the tiny figures at the city gates, then they crested the hill, leaving
Rome
behind them.
The journey north took them over a month. Brude had never ridden a horse before and he was in agony after the first day. While he slowly got used to being on horseback, he never felt comfortable at any pace faster than a slow trot, so they made poor time.
Aquila
had given Lucius several letters, carefully scratched onto clay tablets, to deliver to friends and acquaintances, with whom they would sometimes stay overnight. Most nights they stopped at an imperial staging post where, because Lucius was on military duty, they were able to get a bed for the night and where their horses could be stabled alongside the mounts used by the imperial messengers.
Lucius was talkative on the journey and Brude realised that the young man was nervous. He was only a couple of years older than Brude had been when he had first gone to war and, despite his training and education, this was a daunting step for the young Roman. He called Brude by his
praenomen
of Marcus, insisting that Brude call him Lucius, at least when they were in private. He also helped Brude decipher some of the unfamiliar Greek words in the scrolls Cleon had given him. Despite Cleon’s teaching, Brude still struggled to read the strange-looking Greek script but he slowly learned of the adventures of the Greek hero, Achilles, in the famous war against
Troy
, a story every Roman seemed to know by heart.
They took the road through
Cisalpine Gaul
, rather than cross the mighty mountain range of the
Alps
because the coastal route was easier for an inexperienced rider like Brude, even though it added several days to the journey. From the coast, though, he could see the sheer sides of the immense mountains, huge slabs of grey rock rising from the plains, their peaks often shrouded by clouds and always tipped white with snow, despite the summer heat. He had crossed the mountains into Hispania and they had been impressive enough but the
Alps
were simply stunning, dwarfing even the magnificent buildings of the Roman towns and cities that lay at their feet. Lucius told him a story about a famous soldier called Hannibal, who came from
Carthage
, once an enemy of
Rome
.
Hannibal
had crossed the
Alps
in midwinter to bring war to the very doors of
Rome
itself. “He even brought some elephants with him,” said Lucius.
Brude could scarcely believe that. He would not have liked to try crossing the mountains in the summer, let alone in the middle of winter. “He must have been quite a man,” he said wonderingly.
“He was. Three times he annihilated the armies
Rome
sent against him. He stayed in
Italy
for nearly twenty years.”
“What happened to him?” Brude asked.
Lucius said, “The same thing that happens to all enemies of
Rome
. He was defeated eventually and
Carthage
was destroyed. Now it has been rebuilt as a Roman city.”
That part of the story rang true. The Romans believed, with a conviction as strong as any Brude had ever seen, that they were destined to rule. No matter that they might suffer a setback in war, they knew, as they knew the sun would rise each morning, that they would always win in the end.
Rome
had few enemies left.
Following the military roads, the two riders headed northwards, circling round the edge of the huge mountain range until they eventually reached the Rhenus. The mighty river, broad, deep and fast-flowing, surged through the hills on its way northwards, carving its own valley as it went. They crossed after a few days of following it northwards, using a wide wooden bridge, then headed eastwards, through the hills and forests until they reached the camp where Quintus Aemilius Tertius, imperial legate, commander of the legions of Germania Superior, had his headquarters.
Military life was another new experience for Brude. The camp was a permanent one, with buildings built of stone, brick and tiles rather than wood. It was laid out in a rectangle with two main roads, one heading north to south, the other east to west, although the intersection was not in the centre because the north-south road was nearer the western side of the camp. The headquarters building was at the intersection and the whole encampment was laid out in a regular pattern. Brude soon learned that Roman army camps were always laid out the same way so that it was easy for the soldiers to find their way around. Lucius, as a tribune, had a large room to himself in one of the barrack blocks, while Brude had to share a dormitory at one end of the officers’ quarters with the other freedmen and slaves.
In practice, his duties were light. He simply had to be available to attend to Lucius when called upon. He polished the young man’s breastplate and helmet, tended the horses, although he usually left that to the camp’s experts, and sometimes fetched light meals from the kitchens when Lucius was not dining with the legate.
