Although the crowds frequenting the streets and the forum added to the heat and the feeling of claustrophobia, the expedition began well. Aurelia spent time in a cloth merchant’s shop, admiring the wide variety and colours of fabrics on offer. She handled a piece of silk for the first time and was amazed by its gossamer appearance and the way it slipped through her fingers. The price was no less stunning: a hundred didrachms for a short length that would serve only as a lady’s scarf. ‘You’ve got to understand, mistress,’ the sweating shopkeeper explained, ‘it’s come thousands of miles just to get here. Far to the east of Greece and Asia Minor. Past Judaea and Syria. Months of journeying beyond Persia, even. It comes from the land of the Seres, a yellow-skinned people with black hair and slanted eyes.’ Aurelia had laughed, disbelieving, and settled instead for a score of linen squares and two sets of swaddling cloths.
Drawn by the alluring smells, she next ventured into a perfumer’s. The proprietor, a Judaean with twinkling eyes, insisted on giving her a tour of his premises. Aurelia’s curiosity got the better of her. There were benefits to being a Roman matron, she thought. Some doors that had previously been closed to her now opened with ease. The Judaean seemed trustworthy, and she had little compunction about leaving the male slave outside. Elira came with her. As Aurelia’s eyes grew used to the dim light, she gazed with fascination at the benches lined with little glass flasks and vials, the mixing bowls and the copper alembics in which the perfumes were prepared. A dizzying mix of smells assailed her nostrils, among them coriander and myrtle. Urged by the Judaean, she dabbed essence of almonds and lilies on her wrists and neck. Countless others were offered to try. After a while, she lost count. ‘I love them,’ she said, refusing yet another bottle, ‘but there are too many to choose from.’
‘You must have a favourite, mistress.’ The Judaean smiled, all brown teeth and reddened gums. ‘The rosewater, maybe? Or the lily? Choose one. I’ll give you the best price in Capua, and because you’re so beautiful, you can have a second vial at half price.’
Aurelia laughed. The shopkeeper was a rogue, of that there was no doubt, but he was charming and friendly. She wanted to give him custom. ‘It has to be the lilies.’
‘I knew it!’ He clapped his hands, and one of the slaves working at the benches padded to his side. ‘Prepare two bottles of essence of lilies from the latest batch. Quickly!’ As the slave hurried off, he bowed to Aurelia. ‘Would the lady like a cup of wine? I have a fine vintage from Sicily, and another from our own Campania.’
Aurelia mock-frowned at him. ‘You haven’t mentioned the price yet.’
‘It will be a fair one, I swear to you, on my father’s honour.’
‘So what is it?’ she asked, growing a little suspicious.
A greasy smile. ‘Ten didrachms for the first bottle, five for the second.’
Even without Elira’s gasp, Aurelia knew the demand was exorbitant. ‘A fair price, you say? Ha!’ She turned, as if to go.
‘My lady, wait! We can negotiate.’
‘Your perfumes are incredible,’ she said, ignoring his pleased nod, ‘but I couldn’t pay any more than one didrachm for a bottle of the lily.’
The Judaean wrung his hands together. ‘That would not even cover my costs. Do you know how many flowers have to be used to make just one vial? More than two hundred! Then there’s the labour that goes into its preparation.’
‘All work that is done by your slaves,’ said Aurelia tartly. ‘Whom you don’t pay.’
He was unabashed. ‘The flowers have to be bought; the running costs of my workshop are high indeed. I couldn’t take less than eight didrachms for the first bottle. Twelve for the two.’
Aurelia walked away without a word. She’d gone no more than three steps before the Judaean spoke again. ‘Ten didrachms!’
She kept walking. ‘I’ll give you three.’
‘Mistress, you are trying to ruin me!’ he wailed.
She stopped.
‘Eight,’ he ventured.
At last she turned to look at him. ‘Five.’
‘Let us split the difference, as friends would. Six and a half didrachms.’
‘Six,’ declared Aurelia, knowing she had him.
He let out a long sigh. ‘Very well, mistress. I, a poor ignorant trader, give you this price because of your outstanding beauty and charm.’
Despite herself, she smiled. ‘Here.’ The coins were gone from her hand in the blink of an eye. More bowing and scraping from the Judaean. The perfume arrived a moment later; Aurelia gestured Elira to take the long-necked vials.
‘Some wine?’ he asked again.
‘Thank you, but no,’ replied Aurelia, suddenly overcome by the intense heat radiating from the workshop’s low tile roof. The Judaean didn’t protest, which pleased her. She must have fought him down to a good price.
‘Please come back when the baby is born, and try some more of my products,’ he urged. ‘I have scents to drive a husband wild with desire.’
‘I will.’ Aurelia made her way towards the front of the shop. Intent on getting out into the fresh air, she didn’t see the masked figure slip out from behind a set of shelves. The first thing she knew was the prick of a knife at the base of her spine. Her right arm was wrenched up behind her back. A low voice growled in her ear, ‘Over here, bitch.’ She felt herself being propelled over to the far wall. Elira cried out, and the Judaean spluttered in dismay. ‘Nobody move, or I’ll cut the whore’s throat,’ barked the man.
‘Who are you? What do you want?’ She fumbled for her purse with her free hand. ‘Take this.’ It was snatched from her grasp. Relief turned to terror a heartbeat later, however, when Aurelia felt the back of her dress being lifted up. She opened her mouth to scream, but a sharp poke from the knife reduced her cry to a whimper.
‘Unless you’d like me to gut you as well, stay fucking still.’
‘I’m pregnant.’ Aurelia began to cry. She tried to turn around and look at her attacker, but was stopped by a slap to her face. ‘Please, don’t do this. I’ll lose my baby.’
A cruel laugh. ‘That’s none of my concern. Next time, you might think twice before having an honest businessman threatened.’
Aurelia’s distress was so great that his words didn’t register. Nausea washed over her as he released her arm to rip at her undergarment. Feeling faint, she reached out to hold on to the bench in front of her. Great Ceres, she prayed, do not let my baby come to any harm. Please.
There was a grunt of satisfaction as he succeeded in baring her rear; a pause as he tugged at his own clothing. ‘I’m going to enjoy this.’
This was her only chance, thought Aurelia. Her eyes fixed on a large glass bottle full of liquid. If she could just grab that, wheel and smash it on his head, she might escape. Little by little, she eased her fingers over the work surface. There was no reaction from behind her, just the hideous feeling of something stiff pushing against the tops of her thighs. Terrorised, Aurelia lost all control and lunged for the bottle. A muttered curse; a blinding pain in her lower back. In slow motion, the vessel slid over the edge and fell to the floor, where it shattered into a thousand fragments. A warm liquid ran down on to Aurelia’s buttocks. She knew it for blood. Waves of agony rippled out from where the blade had opened her flesh. Why hadn’t he stabbed her? she wondered dazedly.
He cuffed her heavily across the back of her head; only her outstretched hands prevented her face smashing off the bench. ‘Try another trick like that, bitch, and it will be your last.’ His erection probed forward again, searching for a way into her.