Pilate's Wife: A Novel of the Roman Empire (18 page)

P
ilate's family home on Aventine Hill, surrounded as it was by ancient gardens, magnificent pillars, and marble work, had that old patrician look. My husband's father had done well with his chariot business and who knew what else. Now, with his death, a large part of the fortune was ours and with it the house in Rome.

Lares familiars
...spirits of the house. Welcome me, my troubled heart prayed silently as we entered. I bring no ill to anyone. I will fill your altar with flowers. I will light Vesta's fire. Grant me patience...grant me peace.

Close at my side, Pilate asked, "Do you like it?"

My eyes swept the room, taking in the mosaic floor, the exquisitely frescoed walls and marble ceiling. "What is there for me not to like?" I asked, moving through the atrium.

It was a palatial house with many rooms built onto a main rectangle, one off the other, the whole of it nestling in a lush garden. At the center, a slave waited. She bowed, then handed me a lighted taper. I knelt before the large stone altar beside the hearth. It was covered with family death masks--funereal likenesses of
Tata
and Mother among them.

I lit the home fire, thinking of all the women before me who had done the same. Vesta, Vesta, Vesta, I took you for granted until I had a fire of my own to tend. Now I know that it is you who binds us together. The empire is a family and you the constant reminder of its sanctity.

Though there was no escape from family obligation, the move to Rome might at least offer me a new beginning...Perhaps I sighed without realizing it, for Pilate looked up from the bill of lading he had been inspecting and asked, "What's the matter?"

"I feel old," I surprised myself by replying.

"Old at twenty-two. Poor girl, how will you feel at my advanced age?"

"Thirty-two looks well enough on you."

It did too. There were a few new lines around those amazing eyes, but the clipped military haircut became him well. Pilate had if anything grown more handsome in the six years since we had met. "Age doesn't matter so much for men," I said. "Some are even attractive at forty."

"Really?" He put down the bill of lading. "You have someone specific in mind?"

"My father."

"So that's what troubles you." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "I assumed you would like it here."

"So close to the man who murdered my parents?"

"Tiberius rules the world, Claudia. If I am to advance, I will need his support."

I looked about the sunlit room. Three hallways led beyond, successive vistas of light and color, shaded passageways with black and white mosaic floors. "Your family home is splendid," I told him. "Aventine is the most fashionable neighborhood in Rome. If my parents were alive, they would be the first to remind me to be grateful for such luxury. But they are not alive."

"No, my dear," he sighed, "they are not, and nothing can change that." He picked up the bill of lading, went back to checking off items of furniture. "I thought you loved Rome; I recall your mother did."

"That's the trouble." I struggled with the lump in my throat. "This morning as we approached the city, I thought again and again of that other time: Germanicus and Agrippina triumphant, Mother ecstatic at being home, Marcella and I so excited, so very young, our lives ahead of us."

"Need I remind you that a great deal of your life remains? Soon you and Marcella will be together. A nuisance that she is off on retreat, but that won't last long."

"Yes, I look forward to her return--more than you can imagine--but today I am going to find Agrippina."

Pilate sighed again. "If your own judgment does not suffice, I shall have to be blunt: You will
not
see Agrippina. There is nothing more to be said." He picked up a ledger, subject closed.

This time I refused to be dismissed. "Agrippina has lost everything. First her mother--starved to death at Tiberius's orders on that wretched island and now"--I struggled to hold back my tears--"and now Nero and Drusus--"

"I know you miss them, Claudia. I am sorry."

"Miss them! They were brothers to me, wonderful men. Each would have made a fine, honorable ruler. But now...Nero forced to commit suicide and Drusus--dear wonderful Drusus, always my protector--starved to death in the palace basement. Do you know that he ate the stuffing from his mattress?"

"These are difficult times. I grant you, Agrippina has been through a lot."

"And so have I--would you not agree? Have I not also been through a lot? Not only the great losses, the ones the world recognizes, but also the more private disappointments, the ones only you can know."

Pilate regarded me coolly.

I refused to waver. "Agrippina was a second mother to me," I reminded him.

"Very decent of her not to have contacted you, very discreet."

"That is why I must go to her."

"That would be awkward."

"
Awkward
really?" I mocked him. "Awkward. How dreadful!"

"Does 'dangerous' suit you better? Do you think I want
you
starved to death?"

I
T TOOK A FEW DAYS TO BRIBE THE RIGHT SERVANT, BUT EVENTUALLY
I learned Agrippina's whereabouts. Did Pilate imagine for a moment that I would not find her? Wrapped in Rachel's cloak, I stole out of the house, hurried down the hill to the main square, where I bargained for a litter. Inside, I settled down among the tired cushions, heart pounding. I had seen no one...but who might have seen me? The
delatores
were everywhere, notorious spies who pocketed one third of the estates of those against whom they informed. Dying of hunger would be terrible. But I had made the decision and had no intention of turning back. No longer able to contain my curiosity, I parted the heavy curtains and looked out. The neighborhood grew increasingly less alluring the farther we got from the Aventine.

Buildings crowded together, people crowded together. They cooked in the streets, laundered in the streets, haggled and fought, did
everything
in the streets. I closed the curtains firmly, but that couldn't block the raucous shouts, the loathsome smells. The litter twisted and turned. Where were we? I heard the runners I had hired shouting at beggars, beating off the more aggressive ones with their rods. My
stola
was plain but the gown beneath it...I wished I had worn something simpler. I opened the pouch at my waist; the dagger inside reassured me, a little.

Finally we came to a stop before a dark, uninviting building, a large rickety tenement built over a row of food stores. No wonder the head bearer had stared strangely at me when I told him the address. Now, helping me from the litter, he watched curiously as I looked uncertainly about. Motioning for him to wait, I pulled my
stola
closer and pushed open the unlocked door. Inside the dark foyer, the air was damp and foul. I saw no evidence of air vents as I ascended the narrow stairs. The walls were nothing more than cane and mortar. Judging from the stains and puddles on the floor, they could not be waterproof. Cats prowled the halls freely. I shuddered, thinking of their prey, but continued to climb, stopping to knock on every door. No one answered, though sometimes I heard hushed voices. Of what were they afraid? Panting, I reached the sixth and final floor. One door remained. I knocked tentatively, heard footsteps. A slave answered, cleanly dressed but so shabby. Silently, the woman led me down a dismal hall to a small rectangular room. At least Agrippina had a slave, I thought, as the woman removed my
stola
.

"Who is it?" a voice called out. I would have known it anywhere, but not the tone. Frightened. "Auntie!" I cried. "It is I, Claudia."

Agrippina rushed out from behind a curtain--an Agrippina I could scarcely recognize. Cruel years had darkened the tawny hair, stolen the sparkle from her eyes. Agrippina's voluptuous body had thickened. She hugged me close, and then stood back to look. "Pilate chose well. You are a credit to a man of his ambitions. The way you move--that stunning gown, so exotic."

"I had the best of teachers."

"Those were happy times..."

"And these clearly are not." I looked about the dingy room. Clean, well ordered, but the furniture was worn. Secondhand, thirdhand? Where were Agrippina's gorgeous tapestries, her marble statues and Etruscan antiques?

"All gone," she said, as though reading my mind. "Tiberius confiscated nearly everything. What little that remained has been sold off gradually. I tried to ransom my sons--" She struggled to stifle her tears. "Claudia, you should never have come here. Pilate should not have allowed you. Your parents' only crime was loyalty to Germanicus. I wonder you do not hate me."

I put my arms about her, hugging her close, hiding the tears that stung my eyes. "My parents made a free choice. It is mine as well."

"You dear girl." Taking my arm, she led me to an intimate nook filled with family memorabilia. "I imagined that murdering my family would be enough even for Tiberius, but he is determined to frighten off every friend I have."

I settled myself on a rickety chair opposite her couch. "Have you seen Marcella? I can't wait for that retreat to be over. It has been so long--"

"Your sister has been wonderfully loyal. She was here just last week. I wonder she finds it in her heart to forgive that unfortunate matter with Caligula. How many times I have castigated myself for giving in to Livia." Agrippina's eyes filled with tears. "The Fates have been so cruel! Of my wonderful sons, only Caligula remains--that's only because Livia favors him. He lives with her now in the palace. I miss him dreadfully."

I restrained myself from commenting on the irony of the Fates' choice. Agrippina was so obviously miserable, this awful place...Impulsively, I leaned forward and took her hand. "Auntie, you have forgotten who you are. We don't have to act like rats chased into a cellar. I will have a banquet--a banquet like we used to have."

Pleasure transformed Agrippina's face. "It has been so long since the girls and I have been anywhere. What a treat to see your home. I have heard that it is very grand."

"Pilate's mother had a lot of money and enjoyed spending it." I shrugged, embarrassed, then added, "Mother would have loved it. I think of her often--"

"Try not to," Agrippina stopped me, "except to know how happy and proud she would be for you."

W
HAT
WOULD
M
OTHER HAVE THOUGHT
, I
WONDERED THAT EVENING
when I told Pilate what I had done. My husband was furious. It was not enough that I had defied him by going to Agrippina's home, but a banquet...

"Are you out of your mind!" he roared. "Despite your abysmal connections, I have managed to forge a link with the emperor and now you do this. Are you trying to undermine any chance I have of moving ahead?"

"Pilate, please--" I began, trying not to cry. "They are my family--all that is left of it. Agrippina is so careworn, a shadow of her former self. If you could see her..."

"I don't want to see her! I don't want
you
to see her. How much clearer do I have to make that?
Do you hear me?
"

"Yes, yes, of course I hear you. I'm sorry you're angry, but--I
promised
. I told Agrippina that I would have a banquet like old times."

"Claudia"--he grasped my shoulders, his eyes leveled on mine--"it will
never
be like old times. We must move forward."

"But I gave my word. I said we would have it on Ludi Romani. I want to invite--"

"Ludi Romani--a harvest festival in the midst of the games! Are you out of your mind?"

"Pilate, please. Never mind Ludi Romani--just a simple party, only a few of our new friends."

"Our friends! With your relatives, we will have no friends."

"Just the family then," I pressed, "a chance for us to be happy and safe together, the way we used to be." I looked at him, imploring.

Pilate's expressionless face looked like one more death mask. Finally he sighed. "Very well, Claudia, if it means so much to you. No friends, no outside entertainers. Only your aunt and her daughters...and your sister, of course. If anyone should get wind of this, at least there will be a Vestal present."

Relieved, I turned away, my mind already busy with plans. Pilate's hand on my shoulder stopped me, turning me about. "There is one thing more."

What now? My breath caught as I waited wordlessly.

"You have not been a wife to me since you left the Iseneum. Tonight you will share my couch."

I
DEVOTED AS MUCH EFFORT TO THE SMALL DINNER AS
I
DID TO ONE OF
Pilate'
S
banquets. Thoughts of
Tata
and Mother rose unbidden again and again as I went over the details. I wanted Mother at my side advising,
Tata
standing tall and proud. I brushed the tears from my tablet and went on writing. It would be a grand affair, however small.

Each guest began with an individual head of lettuce, garnished with pickled tuna, rue leaves, and onion. Then came the main courses: oysters, stuffed wild fowl, followed by baked ostrich brains, a dish that Mother served often to
Tata,
who had loved it. Finally the desserts: platter after platter of confections borne by solemn-faced slaves, each carrying a delicacy more elaborate than the last. A highlight that warm autumn evening was snow brought from the northern mountains. Though most of it melted on the plate, the initial effect was spectacular.

Pilate had made it clear: no dancers, comic actors, musicians, or magicians. Fortunately a house slave played the lute quite well. Perhaps this was even better, for nothing interfered with our conversation. At first the reunion was bittersweet--who could forget the dead?--but, in time, joy at being together transcended even this. We no longer feigned gaiety. It was a splendid evening. Agrippina in her tattered finery was still regal and arresting; "baby" Agripilla, thirteen now, leggy and full of laughter; Druscilla and Julia, a bit thinner perhaps and simply dressed, were even prettier than I remembered them in Antioch. Still, it was Marcella who remained the family beauty. Her white gown and simple headdress drew attention to almond-shaped eyes, mysterious and wise, her voice still seductive, velvety, and slow, a mere request for salt becoming in her mouth a caress. Sadly a dalliance was unthinkable; lapsed Vestals were buried alive. Too dreadful to imagine.