Yet that was his new reality.
Chapter VII
Capua
From the first time that they had met formally, Aurelia had liked Lucius well enough. He was attentive and courteous; he clearly found her attractive. Once this had become clear, her mother had postponed their departure for the farm. A week had become two; that time had since been extended to a month. Aurelia didn’t mind. This was infinitely better than living at home, where, since Quintus and Hanno had left, nothing ever happened. Every day, there had been something new and exciting to look forward to.
Typically for a Roman man, Lucius was poor at compliments, but she had never been given so many gifts. A smile of pleasure, and a little guilt, traced her lips as she touched the jet and carnelian necklace at her throat. It had been hers from the moment she’d made a casual comment while walking with Lucius through the city. Her little jewellery box, formerly bare, was now overflowing with earrings and bracelets. She had a stunning fan made from the tail feathers of an exotic bird called a peacock; he had even tried to buy her a little monkey as a pet. With her mother as chaperone, she and Lucius had walked around the forum, taken a boat trip along the River Volturnus and watched chariot-racing at the local amphitheatre. They had been to the theatre twice, and taken an overnight trip to the coast. The time since the confrontation with Phanes had been a veritable whirlwind of activity. There was even talk of visiting the island of Capri. While she wasn’t sure that she wanted to marry Lucius, Aurelia was having the time of her life. Why was it then that she wasn’t enjoying herself more? Agesandros wasn’t around to upset her. Atia had sent him back to manage their estate.
Aurelia knew well the reasons for her disquiet. Every night she thought about them until her head hurt. First was the fact that she didn’t find Lucius that attractive. He was a decent, likeable man, but he was so. . what was the word she was looking for? Earnest. That was it, she thought. He was too earnest. Well meaning, intelligent, well educated, good-looking in his own way. Sadly, all those qualities didn’t stop him from being a bore. She’d initially had that thought when, during their boat trip, Lucius had begun expounding on the fish life in the River Volturnus. At the time, Aurelia had pretended to be fascinated, shoving away the idea and berating herself afterwards for even allowing it into her head. Whether or not she wanted to know the differences between freshwater fish and those that dwelled in the sea, it was wrong to think ill of him. She had every reason to find him physically attractive — the way she did Gaius, and had Hanno. No matter how hard she tried, though, her feelings would not change. She regarded Lucius as a friend, but nothing more than that. It didn’t help that, staying in Martialis’ house, she saw Gaius every day. If anything, her crush on him had intensified.
Her second problem was that her mother had taken a real shine to Lucius. It turned out that Atia’s father had been friends with his grandfather; the pair had served together in the first war against Carthage. Not only were his family cultured, they were also big landowners, with estates given over mainly to the production of olives. As Atia had whispered approvingly to Aurelia during a dinner with Lucius and his father, ‘The olive crops haven’t suffered like the wheat has of recent years. Olive oil is like liquid gold if you have enough of it, and they do.’ She had tried to tell her mother that she wasn’t interested, but Atia was having none of it. ‘You like him; he wants you. I understand that he’s been under considerable pressure from his father to marry. It’s time that he provided his family with an heir. That’s more than enough grounds for a marriage. Where there is friendship, love can grow,’ she had said firmly. ‘Lucius is a good man, from good stock. Your father would approve.’
‘Father doesn’t know a thing about him,’ Aurelia had protested. ‘He has to give his approval before any match can be made.’ Her hopes had plummeted with her mother’s answer.
‘I’ve already sent a letter to your father, telling him that Lucius is the perfect husband for you. If all goes well, we could hear back within a month or two, and the betrothal can be formalised.’
Defeated, Aurelia had lapsed into a gloomy silence that even Lucius could not lift. Furious, Atia had taken her home, pleading a headache. The lecture she had delivered at Martialis’ house afterwards still rang through Aurelia’s mind. Lucius was no older man, no Flaccus; he was of a similar age to her. He was not arrogant, or pompous, as Flaccus had been. He lived nearby, not in Rome, so she would be able to see her family regularly. He wasn’t interested in serving in the army — and there was nothing wrong with that — instead, he had decided to study law, after which he would enter politics. Lucius’ career choice meant that he would not, unless things grew far worse, have to leave as other young nobles would. There was little risk that he would die in battle, as her father and Quintus might. Why was she continuing to try and sabotage her planned betrothal, a god-granted path to salvation of the family’s fortunes? If she succeeded, Atia ranted, she would be condemning her own family to penury and worse. Was that what she wanted? Did she wish for a man like Phanes to assume the ownership of their estate?
Aurelia had been reduced to tears by the effectiveness of her mother’s words. She’d wanted to run to Gaius — the only friend she had in Capua — and throw herself into his arms, and tell him of her feelings. She had wanted to run away and take ship to Carthage, there to find Hanno. The latter was nothing but a dream — Hanno wouldn’t even have been there — but she could have chosen to go to Gaius’ room. Yet she had not. She had wiped her face, and agreed to her mother’s demands, telling herself that marriage to a man such as Lucius could be a good thing. Plenty of women had to live with worse matches than she. Best to count her blessings, and accept her lot.
The day after, trying to take her mind off the whole affair, Aurelia had asked permission to pay a visit to the temple of Mars, there to pray for her father and Quintus. With a new betrothal looming, she felt their absence more than ever. To her relief, Atia had reluctantly acquiesced, with the stipulation that two of Martialis’ male slaves accompany her for security. ‘Phanes has given me a month’s grace, but I still wouldn’t trust him, or any of the other leeches, not to harass you in the street, or worse,’ she said with a scowl. ‘If you see as much as a hair on his head, turn around and head in the other direction.’
Promising that she would, Aurelia set out. She stopped to buy a plump hen at the market — a suitable offering — before making her way to the temple. All went well within. The priest, a young, intense man with a beard, commented on the bird’s healthy plumage and bright eyes, and its apparent lack of fear. It died without a struggle, and its organs were free of blemishes of any kind. Mars had accepted her gift, and would keep his shield over her father and her brother, the priest assured her. Aurelia wasn’t as religious as she ought to be; she often forgot to say her prayers or kneel at the lararium in their house, but the ritual and his words gave her a good deal of comfort that morning.
Her spirits high, she slipped the last coin that Atia had given her to the priest and prepared to leave the temple. At that moment, Gaius entered in full army uniform: Boeotian helmet, bronze cuirass, linen pteryges and leather boots. He was a magnificent sight, and her stomach fluttered. Suddenly shy, she ducked her head so as not to be seen.