‘Sore.’ Maybe she had been hasty in deciding that her wound was minor. ‘My back. Is it-?’
‘The surgeon attended to it. A long cut, but not deep. He’s stitched it up. It will heal in two to three weeks, he says.’
Aurelia’s head felt heavy as she nodded. ‘How can I be so tired? I’ve only just woken up.’
‘You lost quite a lot of blood,’ chided Lucius. ‘Fortunately it was Calavius, the chief magistrate himself, who came to your aid. Thanks to him, the surgeon arrived soon after you did.’
It took a moment for that to register. ‘I see.’
‘It’s a wonder that the baby didn’t come early.’
She touched her stomach, reassuring herself. ‘How long have I been asleep?’
‘A day and a night.’
‘Gods above,’ she muttered.
‘What were you thinking to go out as you did?’ he asked, his anger spilling forth again.
‘You did not protest when I told you I was going.’
He didn’t acknowledge her words. ‘You should have taken more slaves with you.’
Why is he being like this? she wondered. ‘That would not have stopped what happened. I went into the shop alone apart from Elira, as I always would. The man followed me inside. Did Elira not tell you?’
‘What if you had lost the baby?’ His voice was accusing.
Ah, that’s why he is so upset, she thought bitterly. The child is more important than I am. ‘I didn’t.’
‘But you could have.’
‘I didn’t,’ she repeated, angry now. ‘But if Elira hadn’t intervened, I would have been raped.’
That seemed to bring him to his senses. A heavy sigh. ‘Thank all the gods that that didn’t happen. What I can’t understand is why someone would pick you out like that.’
‘There are men like that everywhere. It was just my bad luck to catch his attention,’ said Aurelia with a shudder.
‘It wasn’t one of Phanes’ apes, was it?’
The name triggered something in Aurelia’s memory. ‘Maybe. He said something about thinking twice before having an honest businessman threatened.’ Lucius looked at her blankly, so she told him about the attack on Phanes in the temple.
‘Who in Hades ordered that — your mother?’
‘No! She came to me, asking if I knew who it could have been.’ Don’t let him ask any more questions, she prayed. It was better if Lucius didn’t even know of Hanno’s existence.
To her relief, he let it go. He was silent for a time, tapping a finger off his lips in thought. ‘Phanes has to be the most likely culprit. I will have my men pay him a visit. It doesn’t do any harm to let sewer rats know their place from time to time.’
The way he said ‘visit’ made Aurelia smile. She could no longer control her drowsiness, however. Her eyes closed. All she wanted to do was sleep.
‘The surgeon says it would be best if you stayed here until your time arrives.’
She roused herself with an effort. ‘Why?’
‘He thinks that another journey in this heat might bring on your labour prematurely. Staying here will be more relaxing for you.’ Lucius seemed content with this notion.
Aurelia was also pleased. Although she was unused to the house, Capua was very familiar to her. ‘That’s fine,’ she murmured. ‘The baby will be born here.’ Her eyelids closed again. It might have been her imagination, but she fancied that she could feel Lucius stroking her hair as she slipped away into oblivion.
In the event, staying in Capua proved to be a blessing in disguise. Atia could visit much more easily than before; indeed once she knew Aurelia’s intentions, she moved into the house for the duration. Having her mother on hand proved a great comfort to Aurelia, for her nervousness about the birth was growing as it drew ever closer. Her anxiety wasn’t helped by her worries over her father and Quintus. Everyone was obsessed with the impending battle against Hannibal — no, the impending victory over him — that surely must come soon. Two weeks after the attack in the perfumer’s, the two new consuls passed Capua on their way south. Forty thousand troops, citizens and socii, marched and rode with them. The populace turned out in droves to witness the spectacle.
Aurelia’s wound had healed well enough for her to travel by litter with Lucius to the city ramparts, the best local vantage point. She would remember the sight to her dying day. The massively long column that extended from north to south as far as the eye could see. (By all accounts, it had been passing Capua since daybreak; men said that the tail wouldn’t go by until mid-afternoon.) The sound of thousands of studded sandals striking the ground in unison, which filled the air with an ominous thunder. The soldiers’ rhythmic chanting. Winding through the din, the blaring of trumpets. Sunlight flashing off the metal standards that marked out each legion, maniple and century. The trails of dust rising from the cavalry units, which were dwarfed by the orange-brown clouds that hung in the air over the entire host. Marching through the dirt sent up by the men in front must be horrific, she thought, especially in addition to the incredible heat and the mass of heavy armour and weapons that each man carried.
Aurelia had seen her father dressed in his uniform before; had wept as he rode away. She’d done the same when first Quintus, and then Gaius, had left. Yet seeing the army brought home the hideous reality of war in a way that truly unnerved her. Hannibal’s host was nowhere near as large as the Roman one would be when the consuls reached the other legions. But there was no avoiding the fact that when battle was joined, many thousands of men would die. More even than at the Trebia or at Trasimene. If that was the case, what chance had her father and brother of surviving? A dark gloom cast its shadow over her. Lucius’ excited comment about perhaps joining the army hadn’t helped. Aurelia hoped that her protestations had convinced him not to pursue the idea, that his father would disabuse him of the notion. For all that she didn’t love him, he was a decent man and her future lay with him. He must not go to war too.
She’d had enough of watching the martial display. ‘I want to go back to the house,’ she said, touching Lucius’ arm.
‘Soon.’ His eyes roamed eagerly over the column. ‘Look, there’s another legion standard. A minotaur, I think.’
Aurelia resolved to ask him again in a moment. After what had happened, she didn’t want to return to the house alone. She also wanted his arm to lean on when negotiating the steps to street level. By now, her stomach was so large that she waddled rather than walked. Physical activity of any kind was uncomfortable. How much longer will it be? she wondered, rubbing her belly. Her discomfort now outweighed her fear — just. It would do no harm to call in to the temple of Bona Dea on the way back, she decided. Her offerings to the goddess of fertility and childbirth had been frequent, but there was no harm in making another.
‘You’re hot.’ Lucius wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. ‘My pardon. You mustn’t stay out for long in these temperatures. Let’s return to the house.’
Aurelia gratefully took his arm. They walked the short distance to the staircase that they’d ascended. A sentry saluted; a friend of Lucius’ called out a greeting. The wife of another wished Aurelia well, and subjected her to a barrage of advice. Her smile of acknowledgement faltered as an intense pain radiated from her lower belly. It passed within a few heartbeats; the other woman did not notice. Muttering a goodbye, Aurelia walked a few more steps. Another wave hit her then, and she stopped dead, taking deep breaths to try and move through the agony.
‘Are you all right?’ asked Lucius.