She shot a quick glance at her husband. The wine he’d drunk lent a warm flush to his cheeks. Alcohol made some men more aggressive, but there was no sign of that with Lucius. If anything, he seemed more jovial than ever.
‘In time, you may even come to enjoy it,’ Atia had gone on. The memory made Aurelia blush for the second time — simultaneously angry and embarrassed. As if that were possible! She would hate every moment of it, would endure it because that was her duty. There would be no pleasure involved; with luck, it would not take long. Despite the pork she’d just tried, there was a new, bitter taste in her mouth. It was easy for her mother to talk in this manner: she had been blessed in marriage, for she had wed Aurelia’s father not by formal arrangement, but in a love match that had been disapproved of by both their families. Maybe I should have run off with Hanno, Aurelia reflected, left my old life behind to make a new one with him. The fantasy lasted no more than a few heartbeats. Her conscience would not be silent. And leave Phanes to beggar your parents? it asked. A knot of emotion closed her throat. She could not have lived with herself if that had happened. It was partly her fault anyway. If she hadn’t been discovered eavesdropping that day, her mother might have kept up with the payments to the unscrupulous moneylender. Stop it, she thought. The whole argument is futile. If Lucius hadn’t come along, another suitable husband would have been found. It was so unfair!
There was one consolation, if it could be called that. According to her mother, if she became pregnant, Lucius would not try to have sexual relations with her. Nor would he while she was breastfeeding a baby. ‘As you’re unhappy about this match, it’s all the more reason to get with child. Once you have provided him with at least one son, but preferably two or even three, he will leave you alone, should that be your wish.’ Aurelia could scarcely imagine giving birth once, let alone multiple times. It was not something that she’d dreamed about, as she knew other girls did. If given the choice, riding horses and training with a sword — both activities prohibited to women — were preferable to her than the drudgery of rearing children. But it would be best to forget that Quintus had ever taught her to do either. She would never do them again. Nor would she roam through the woods with him and Hanno.
‘Once you have had three children, no one could complain if you discreetly took a lover. But not before then,’ Atia had warned. Hanno might have been a lover, thought Aurelia with regret, if only he weren’t one of the enemy. According to everyone, the Carthaginians — she refused to call them guggas — were absolute savages. Aurelia only knew Hanno, and he certainly wasn’t like that. Nor had Suni been. She doubted their families were either. Quintus was about the only person who might understand her feelings for Hanno — to all intents and purposes, he and Hanno had been friends — but she doubted if even her brother could bring himself to approve. For the rest of her days, it would have to remain her dark secret.
Aurelia realised with a start that Lucius’ father had been speaking for some time. He expressed regret that her father and brother could not be present, offered his respects to Atia and Martialis, who was standing in for Fabricius, and gave thanks to the gods for the auspicious omens pronounced by the priests that day. Aurelia’s mouth went dry as he turned with a wink to Lucius. ‘And so the highlight of the ceremony is nearly upon us.’
‘Stand up.’ Atia was right by her. Aurelia did as she was told. Her mother had explained what would happen, but her heart still began to race once more. Atia’s embrace had never been more welcome as Lucius stood up and said in a loud voice, ‘I am here to claim my wife.’
There was an immediate, loud chorus of cheers, catcalls and sexual innuendoes from the other guests.
‘You will not take her,’ declared Atia.
Aurelia wished with all her heart that that were true, but it was all part of the ritual.
Lucius rose from the couch and took hold of Aurelia’s hand. ‘She is my wife, and I claim her.’
The hooting and crude references to the night’s activities grew even louder. Lucius began to pull Aurelia away. The reality of her situation sank in fully and she clung to her mother with her free hand like a child who didn’t want to go to its lessons. Lucius looked puzzled, and then annoyed. He tugged harder, but Aurelia resisted.
‘Let go!’ hissed Atia in her ear. ‘You will disgrace yourself and our family.’
Aurelia’s resistance crumbled and she allowed Lucius to drag her away. Her mother wailed theatrically at the ‘parting’, and the guests, who hadn’t noticed a thing, roared with approval. She let him lead her through the atrium to the front door, where slaves waited with burning torches to accompany them outside. There, two small boys were waiting. The first darted to her side and took her left hand. As tradition dictated, he was the son of two living parents, Lucius’ sister and her husband. The second child held a torch and a hawthorn branch; he would walk before them on the road to Lucius’ house, which lay about a mile away. The couple waited as the guests spilled out into the night air around them. A pair of musicians with flutes appeared and began to play rousing tunes. Aurelia tried to ignore the barrage of lewd jokes and songs, but it was impossible. They continued to be shouted and sung as the procession set off. She might not have cared if she’d drunk some wine, but custom dictated that women should not drink much, if at all.
‘You look beautiful.’
Lucius’ voice startled her, even more so because he had paid her the compliment. Typically, he did not do so, at least in public. ‘T-thank you.’
The cacophony made it easy to journey the rest of the way in silence.
At Lucius’ house, Aurelia anointed the doorposts with oil and animal fat, and tied woollen threads to each side of them. Lucius carried her over the threshold to much applause and they walked to the atrium. The guests followed in a loud, drunken gaggle. There he gave her the formal gifts of a beaker of water and a burning lamp, which welcomed her into his home. Using the torch borne by the boy who’d led the procession, they together lit the twigs which lay ready in the fireplace, symbolising their new life together. Without further ado, they continued to the bridal chamber, one of the bedrooms, which sat off the courtyard and had been specially prepared for this occasion. A large bed dominated the room, numerous lights hung from an ornate bronze stand. In a corner sat an ugly statue of the ancient fertility god, Mutunus Tutunus, with his massive phallus. More suggestive comments filled the air. Lucius’ lips twitched, but Aurelia eyed it with dread, grateful that the old practice of new brides having to lower themselves on to the stone member had long since been discontinued. She allowed her mother to divest her of the flammeum and her shoes, flushed red at her ceremonial advice and watched with relief as Atia and the other guests withdrew. Lucius closed the door behind them.
Of course the moment that they were alone, her mental anguish grew even greater. Aurelia didn’t know which way to look — at the bed, the statue of the priapic god, or Lucius. She shuffled her bare feet and gazed at the floor, too scared even to move. When Lucius touched her arm, she jumped. Unwillingly, she lifted her eyes to his. His expression was gentle, which almost made her disquiet worse.