X.
THE ANNIVERSARY OF MY daughter’s day of birth dawned bright and clear. Soon, she would fly through my door in a rush of eagerness and demand. Soon, she would force me to the happiness I felt only in her presence. Now, in these silent moments before her, I had no impetus to joy. For now, I remained unsmiling and silent, and could not turn from the sorrow and pain burned deep inside me.
I was no longer married.
Staring ahead, I shaped the words. They still felt odd in my mouth.
A year had passed since my husband—my former husband—had dissolved our union, taking a younger, happier girl as his bride. I was morose. Morbid. An unfitting vessel for his sons. As he uttered this, I had stared at him, unblinking. My husband—my former husband—thought a younger wife would help his prestige, especially as her father possessed greater standing than mine ever had. The ear of a senator, her father had, and my hus—my former husband—believed he would gain much favour from this new marriage.
I found I did not much care.
Pulling at the fabric covering my bed, I stared at the intricate fresco on my wall. Returning to my mother’s care after so long away had been…difficult. There was much changed in the years of my marriage, and I knew my mother only welcomed us, Aurelia and I, because I was a valuable bargaining token, a pawn she could use to further her own ambitions. My proven fertility made me desirable to many, and my mother would more than like be able to contract a new, advantageous marriage based upon this coin.
On this topic, she fought often with my brother, the head of family Silvanus. He had his own plans for my future, his own man he wanted me to wed. This first man my mother dissuaded, by means of which I had no desire to know. My mother proposed a second union and my brother, who would gain naught from her choice, denied the match. Thus they bickered between them, and I remained yet unwed.
Drawing my knees to my chest, I rested my chin. For my part, I would be content to never again be wed, to simply allow Aurelia in my life and no other. When my mother set her mind to strategy, she was difficult to defy, and my brother believed he had my best interests at heart. I knew I would not long retain this comfortable position, this lack of a husband, though I did in my own way seek to extend the period. My mother would never believe me defiant, and thus it was easy to play upon her ambitions and fears. If she had no concern for one of my brother's candidates, it took only a few words to install doubt. She would be horrified if she knew how easy I found her to sway.
I could not conceive of why I should wed again, though I did concede there was some good to have come of my marriage. Aurelia was my comfort, and my joy. Of little use to her father, she had been allowed to come with me to my mother's home, to live by my side. This displayed my husband's casual cruelty and lack of regard as little else could. He did not even care enough to keep his daughter by his side, as other husbands did when divorcing their wives. However, in truth, I could not complain. If not for his lack, she would not be with me and I would be bereft without her.
Aurelia still laughed, still showered me with affection, and she was beautiful, her dark hair and green eyes a combination of her father and me. Unaffected by his absence, her brow furrowed only once to question his lack. In that moment, I was glad he had never shown her favour.
I was not allowed to see my son. I attempted it. Again and again and again, and each time I had been put off, rebuffed, given one cause or another why I may not see him. Finally, after attempting yet again, I had been told I could no longer see my son, my Gaius. My husband did not tell me this. No, he left that task to his new wife, who stroked her belly full of his child and smirked. She told me of how my son had been sent far away, of how never again would I see him. As if from a great distance I heard her words, and emotion had rippled and pulled inside me, growing too big for my flesh to contain, and I wanted to hurt her, I wanted to hit her, I wanted—
A dull ache started above my heart. I had tried to find Gaius but my husband had hidden him well. No matter what avenue I pursued, what information I gathered, I could not discover where he had been taken. I could not find my son.
It used to be this pain encompassed and spread, becoming all of me, but I was better now. I was better.
I rubbed at my chest. My hand cradled between my breasts, my legs tight to my chest, I pressed my cheek to my knees and fought. Such memories held too great a strength, and all crashed through me. My disinterested father. My mother’s taunts. My uncaring husband and my son ripped from my arms. Mar—the slave, taken from me. I endured these things, but not without price. To endure, I buried myself deep, so deep I was not sure I could return. But for my daughter, I was lost.
But for her.
A bang rent the air. I jumped, and then wiped at my cheeks as the pounding of feet against tile heralded the approach of my daughter. In a flurry of feet and fabric, she rushed into my chamber and leapt into bed with me. I had bare time to adjust my thoughts, to force melancholy aside.
Aurelia bounced on the bed so hard it shook, and then threw herself into my embrace. “Mama! Mama, it is my birthday! I am going to have lots of food to break my fast, and then I am going to speak with Emperor, and then I am going to ask Pullo to make sure Emperor has lots to eat too, and then I am going to saddle him and ride him, and then I am going to come back here and then Cook is going to make me a pastry, and then I am going to ride Emperor again!”
“All of that, hmm?” I stroked her hair from her forehead and my heart of a sudden was buoyant and full. My joy. My Aurelia. “I am not sure about Emperor, though.”
“Mama.” She twisted in my embrace to deliver me a fearsome scowl. “I have seven years now. I am not a baby.”
“Oh. Seven years. How very foolish of me. You are, quite obviously, fully grown. Only…” And then, I attacked her with tickles.
Aurelia screamed, her little hands trying to push me away even as giggles escaped her. “Mama! Mama, stop it. It is too…” She dissolved into giggles once more.
I laughed too, delighting in giving my daughter joy. I had presents for her, fine garments, a new saddle for Emperor, an intricately carved doll. This gift I gave her, however, the gift of laughter, was more precious to me than aught else.
Eventually, we sobered and Aurelia once again settled into my side, plucking at a loose strand of embroidering on my sleep tunic. “Mama, today we shall see the bears in the markets. Octavia says they dance.”
Her childish arrogance amused me. So demanding, my daughter, and secure she would not lose my love because of it. “And when shall we do this? Before or after your study?”
Aurelia screwed her face. “Study? But it is my birthday.”
“Yes.” I brushed a kiss against her dark hair. “That does not mean you may shirk your responsibilities.”
She exhaled. “All right. I suppose we can see the bears after the study.”
Hiding a smile, I held her close. I was so very thankful for her, for the joy she brought me. I liked myself better when I was light, when my heart was full, and I thanked all the gods my Aurelia forced me to such. I did not want to contemplate how I would be without her.
***
THE MARKET FORUM WAS not far from my mother’s home, a short, pleasant walk through the city streets. Aurelia had completed her studies swiftly, the lure of the market and the promised dancing bears spurring her. After dressing in the clothes of a merchant child and her mother, we covertly departed my mother’s domus.
Often we sought passage through the streets, and often I sought to disguise us both, knowing anything less would lead to questions and whispers I had no patience for. Patrician women venturing from their domus? Snide words, and ones repeated over and again such they grew to become a tale of how a daughter of Silvanus ventured from Rome to Padua, whoring herself to any and all who would lend her travel for a few leagues. This daughter of Silvanus would then arrive filled with child and teeming with every disease ever to have plagued the Empire. Such conjecture would then return to my mother, who would rail and scream and tell me how again I had brought shame to her house and I…I had not the patience for such petty gossip.
Thus, disguised and unnoticed, Aurelia and I walked the streets, and we revelled in the freedom, gaping and whispering and marvelling at the sights. Lanes made narrow by dwellings packed tight to the other opened onto broad, sun-drenched forums, lined themselves with stalls and produce and temples to the gods. The bustle of those undertaking their daily business rushed past in a flurry of colour and sound and we joined their passage, following them, moving against them, glorying in the sometimes cheerful, sometimes irate nature of an outing to the market.
A noble woman passed us, transported on the shoulders of burly slaves. Bringing her to Aurelia's attention, I smiled as my daughter gaped, eyes avid on the fine silks the woman wore, the lazy way she fanned herself, her arrogant expression as she glanced at those beneath her.
Farther we walked, passing orators who spoke to a disinterested audience, yelling their rhetoric from pulpits made of wooden scraps and stone leavings. Being so wholly ignored by the public did not seem to deter them, and they continued to speak with passion and fire. I admired them, their blind devotion to their cause, and knew such could never be me. I do not deal well with indifference.
Finally, after too short a journey, we arrived at the market forum. I loved this part of the city. Bright colours, exuberant sounds, the hustle and bustle of life as people bought and sold and bartered. Succulent fruit, expensive oils, luxurious cloths, all was available here—for a price, of course.
A stall boasting shiny baubles distracted Aurelia, and she ran gentle fingers over such treasures. Anxious, the vendor hovered over her and I glared at him, ready to strike should he utter a single word. Before long the baubles lost their attraction and Aurelia moved on, fixed once again to her destination.
In a surprisingly short amount of time we stood with other mothers and daughters, and my daughter became transfixed by the dancing beasts. Mouth agape, eyes wide, Aurelia watched, barely moving as the bears twirled and dipped before her.
I stood at her side, somewhat bored by the sight. If I were a girl, the bears would enthral me too but alas, I was no longer a girl.
My gaze wandered. The market was busy at this time of day, teeming with kitchen hands and housewives and tavern keeps. A stall owner boasted of fragrant oils from the mysterious East, touting the healing properties of the oils, how they would facilitate an attraction for the one you desired. A faint memory stirred of the man I had once desired above all else, but I was used to forcing such memories aside and this time was no different. As quick as the thought had arrived, it was gone.
Another stall held kitchen wares, a tumble of brass goblets and iron skillets, and this vendor shouted of their durable nature, their beauty and practicality, and guaranteed if purchased they would remain as good as they day they were created.
The shouts and noises of a busy marketplace surrounded me, and I found myself smiling as the fruitier yelled a price for his wares, the sing-song tone the same as I had heard when I was a girl. I remembered attending these markets with Rachael, remembered the mischief she had encouraged me to. I remembered bright colours and the smell of sawdust and grain, and the taste of the honeyed pastries we would purchase and the sound of our laughter.
I still missed Rachael every day.
Aurelia tugged at my robe. “Mama, you are not watching. You have to watch.”
My attention stolen from the market, I smiled. “I do watch, Aurelia.”
Minor irritation crossed her face and she stamped her foot. “No, you do not, Mama, and you must. It is my birthday. You must watch.”
She was wise, my child, to know I said such to placate her. She also would not be dissuaded. I did watch for a moment, to please her. Soon, she became transfixed once more and my gaze was again free to wander.
Fruit, and goblets, and oils, and—
I froze.
No. It could not… It could not be.
Staring at me from across a sea of people stood the slave I used to teach. Marcus.
Our gazes locked. I saw my shock mirrored in him, in the way he paled, in the way he shaped my name.
With a gasp, I closed my eyes, prayed I was wrong. I had to be wrong. It could not be him.
Bracing myself, I looked again. It was. It was him. His hair was longer, and he wore the clothes of a merchant, but it was him. In that moment, a hundred emotions rushed through me, emotions I had not felt in eons. Shock, and panic, and exhilaration, and…and… I did not know. I did not know.
Market sounds, commonplace and every day, became screeches and shrieks. My sight sharpened, blurred, careened wildly between the two. My heart beat, so fast, and I could not stay here. I could not.
The slave stared at me, regaining his colour and with its return a kind of determination came over him. Eyes locked upon me, his shoulders set, and then he started toward me.
Panic flared.
As I tugged my daughter to her feet, she turned a fierce scowl upon me. “Mama, what are you doing? I do not want to leave. The bears are still dancing.” She pulled at my grip, trying to force me to stay. “Mama!”
“Quiet, Aurelia.”
Her eyes widened at the brusqueness of my words. Dragging my now-silent daughter behind me, succumbing to my cowardice, I fled. I fled, and left him far behind.