Pilate's Wife: A Novel of the Roman Empire (26 page)

The dancers whirled, twisting this way and that, taking the wine into their mouths and spraying it between their teeth into a thin mist. It stuck to me, enveloping me, mingling with the pungent smoke from many tripods scattered throughout the room. Head swimming, I glimpsed two new figures and strained to see more clearly. They carried a large wicker basket and were walking slowly toward me.

Someone held a small bowl on a tripod before me, forcing me to inhale its acrid fumes. My lungs filled to bursting. Sensations of every kind assaulted me. Each sound, each sight intensified almost beyond bearing. Every pore tingled and pulsated with a life of its own. I screamed as colors I could not name exploded before my eyes in grotesque shapes. Each part of me pulled in a different direction. My patrician status, the power and privilege, however fleeting, that feminine grace and beauty brought me were ripped away until I was stripped of every defense, every trick, every shred of personality. Finally only my trembling soul remained alone and vulnerable. Holy Isis, be with me. If I must endure this death, let me use it to save my loved ones.

The basket lay before me, lid open. I saw the leather rod with straps at one end. My heart was ready to explode. A masked woman tied the straps about her waist. I shrieked and struggled to free myself as the tall, muscular figure advanced toward me. Women surrounded me, holding me fast while others swiped at me with small leather whips. At first the strokes were short and stung like light rain, but soon they came harder and faster. I struggled frantically as they dragged me toward a couch.

The woman with the rod climbed on top of me. Or was it a woman? Dionysus's spear of fire seemed to be everywhere, over and around me, assaulting me, enveloping me, dominating me. The singing and the music grew even louder, drowning out my screams until after a time even I no longer heard them. Again and again I was consumed by the god until I was finally one with him. I heard the rushing waters of the Styx, saw white-haired Charon waiting. The forms of so many that I had loved waited on the other side, but not Marcella and Holtan. They were here in this world. "No!" I cried, but the sound was no more than a whisper. "I don't want to die, I don't..."

M
UCH LATER THE MUSIC SLOWED, ALTERING SUBTLY UNTIL IT HAD
changed to a soft lullaby. Gentle hands ministered to me, slipping away the ripped gown and replacing the soiled covering beneath me with a fresh one. Deft fingers washed away the wine and blood from my bruised body and carefully dressed me in a satin gown studded with seed pearls and richly embroidered in a pattern of golden stars. Propped up by silken pillows, I watched as one by one the women removed their masks. Covering their nakedness now with luminous robes, they knelt before me.

"It is time, Great Ariadne, to tell us what you see."

I turned my head. It was Portia who spoke, a very different Portia. This woman regarded me with reverence as she slowly advanced. In her hands was a silver bowl, which she placed on a small table before me. Portia's voice was hoarse, hardly more than a whisper, as she asked, "Will the goddess share that which she sees?"

I looked down at the bowl. It was filled with clear water. Just water. But as I continued to stare into its depth, the liquid swirled. Visions slowly appeared, only to fade again. They made no sense, yet filled me with apprehension. I pushed the bowl away. I would not do it. Unheeding, the women pressed forward, jostling one another in their eagerness.

They had forced me into this, why should they not face the consequences? "You won't like what I see," I warned.

The women ignored my words, jostling each other, murmuring impatiently among themselves. Portia held her place in front.

I looked again into the bowl, studying the shapes I saw drawing closer, clearer. "Your husband has been posted to Germania," I told her.

"Yes, yes, everyone knows that."

"Perhaps. But everyone does not know about the chieftain's daughter. She is blond and very beautiful. Their alliance is political, but he will come to value it for other reasons. Your husband will never return to Rome."

"That is impossible!"

"He will
never
return to Rome."

Turning to another, the master gardener, who had pushed her way to the front, I said, "You want to know about your daughter, your only daughter."

The woman nodded eagerly.

"She will conceive. She will have a son, a beautiful, healthy boy, but she herself will die."

Another woman crowded in beside her. "Can you tell me about my house here in Pompeii? I have been offered a good price. Should I sell it?"

I felt a wave of heat, the breath sucked from my lungs. "Yes...yes!" I gasped. "Something terrible will happen here. Take your family. Leave this place."

Miriam stood before me now, eyes large. I struggled with a vision, trying to understand. Bizarre, frightening. What did it mean? My sight was already fading. "You think there is nothing left for you in Galilee, but you are wrong. You must return. Go home. There you will find your greatest love, a man unlike any other. I see much joy for you. I see a crown..." I broke off. Was this man a king? Then why a crown of thorns? What did it mean? What should I say to her? "Miriam, go now!" I gasped. "Your time with him is short."

Miriam caught her breath. "Claudia, what do you mean? How will I know him?"

The others pushed forward, each with a question. Whatever the gift's source, it would soon be gone. Surely, I reasoned, I have earned the use of this power for myself. Closing my eyes to the pleading faces, I looked into the void. For one awful moment, I saw nothing. Then, at last, Holtan's form appeared before me.

But was it Holtan? Gone were the power and grace I knew and loved so well. I scarcely recognized the strangely shrunken body lying before me. Why the haggard face, the pain-filled eyes? I saw no wounds, but surmised they must be terrible. Holtan's lips moved. I struggled to hear.

"I had--had to see you--Claudia," he gasped in a raspy whisper.

T
he Villa of Mysteries was quiet now. One by one the others had slipped away. Numb with fatigue, I sat with my back against a marble column, feet dangling in the lily pond.

"May I join you? I have come to say good-bye."

Startled, I looked up, squinting in the morning sunlight. I had dozed off. Now I saw Miriam, a slim figure in a russet
stola,
standing in the archway. She was dressed for traveling. "You must be returning to Rome?"

Smiling, she shook her head. "No, I am going to Judaea. Perhaps I will find my lover there, the man you saw in your vision." She drew closer, her eyes on mine. "Tell me, Claudia, how will I know him?"

I struggled to recall the image. "He has a wonderful face...eyes that reach into one's very soul." Eyes that reach into one's soul. Had I seen those eyes somewhere else?
That face
...Impossible, this was Miriam's life, not mine. I struggled to recapture what I had originally seen for her the previous night. It had all been so confused. There was joy...but also...oh no! I paused, hesitant to say more. "I see great love for you, but also sadness."

Miriam smiled ruefully. "I have never experienced great love. Perhaps it is worth some sadness." Throwing back her mantle, Miriam sat down beside me. "Did you see something for yourself last night?"

"Yes." My eyes filled with tears. "The one I love...I saw him clearly. He had come to me...from far away, I think...but," my voice sank to a frightened whisper, "
he was dying
."

"The man was not your husband."

"No, not my husband."

"What will you do?" Miriam asked, her eyes compassionate as they studied me. "What
can
you do?"

"I have been thinking. If I never see him again...that terrible thing won't happen."

"Is that possible? What Fortuna has written--"

"I will not believe that!" I exclaimed, kicking at the water's placid stillness. "I can change what is written. I
must
change it!"

"Then may Isis grant you strength."

"And you, as well."

We clasped hands, looking deeply into each other's eyes. When I looked up, I saw a tall Nubian garbed splendidly in gold. He bowed to me from the doorway. "The empress bids you join her."

"Take care!" Miriam warned softly.

I squeezed her arm reassuringly. "I have been to the banks of the Styx itself. Surely I can handle Livia." Almost sauntering, I followed the slave to the
triclinium
where the empress breakfasted alone.

"Good morning, 'Ariadne.'" Her eyes slanted maliciously as she gestured toward a walnut and ivory chair beside her couch. "So you survived your nuptials. Not everyone is so fortunate."

Fortunate, indeed, I thought, watching Livia dribble cream over her figs. How little she knew. "I thought you would be there."

"I was there."

"I did not see you."

"But I saw you. Quite a performance."

My chair scraped across the marble tiles as I leaned forward. "You cannot imagine the gift you have given me." I met her gaze coolly. "I am very grateful."

"Oh, for Jupiter's sake!" Livia exclaimed, eyes blazing like emeralds. "What have you to tell me?"

"I am surprised you did not ask last night with the others."

"I am the empress, you stupid girl! Tell me now, will I be a goddess or not? What did you see for me?"

I had seen nothing related to Livia, yet the lives of Marcella and Holtan depended upon the right answer. The empress was shrewd; I would have to make it good. Isis help me!

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, intoning: "Your name will live long into the future." Another breath. "In fact..." The sacred space eluded me; I saw only blackness. "In fact..." I paused again, the lie that I had prepared frozen on my tongue. What could I say to her? There was nothing...and then, to my amazement, a shocking image took shape. "Much of the Palantine is in ruins. People wandering through the rubble wearing strange clothing and speaking languages that I have never heard. They walk about looking at crumbling walls and pointing their fingers at...at nothing, really. There's nothing to see but fallen columns, piles of debris. Part of it may be the forum, but I am not certain...So little remains..."

"But what about me?" Livia urged impatiently.

"These strangers seem to know you," I continued slowly. What was I seeing? My world, all that I knew and cherished had crumbled to nothing. "There is a sign with your name and an arrow pointing the way to your house. It too is a ruin, but better preserved than the rest. People go there and stand, almost in awe, looking at the mosaic on your floor. Why that should be, I cannot imagine, since it is very faded."

As I strained to make sense of what I saw, the vision slowly faded until it was gone. What dreadful thing had I been shown? I opened my eyes to find Livia smiling delightedly. "That settles it! Of course I am to be a goddess. What else could it mean?" She leaned back expansively. "You have done your job well. I shall allow you to join your husband in Herculaneum. You may tell him that you have been my guest these past two days." She dismissed me with a glance and reached again for the cream pitcher.

"But my baby--Marcella--is she all right?"

Livia shrugged. "So far as I know. She is with your husband."

I drew a deep breath. "And Holtan?"

"Unharmed. I shall release him when I return to Rome." Livia turned her attention to the figs, islands in a sea of cream. "Oh yes, there is something else." She looked up briefly. "Last night I received a message. Pilate's son by that alley cat Titania has died of a sudden fever. No doubt your husband will look to you for comfort. I never thought him overfond of Titania, but the boy, that is another matter. I hear he was a handsome lad--took after Pilate."

She paused to spread honey on a slice of bread. "I shall have a word with Tiberius--see if he can arrange something for Pilate. Something outside of Rome. I am weary of seeing that face of yours at banquets. Your gray eyes annoy me." Her head nodded perfunctorily; I was released.

With Isis's help I had managed to survive Livia's capricious cruelty. But what awaited me in Herculaneum?

O
UR NEW VILLA--LIKE
H
OLTAN'S--HAD A DOUBLE PORTAL, HEAVILY
studded, bronze-hinged, firmly bolted. I waited like any outsider while the groom that Livia had sent with me pounded forcefully. Almost at once the door was opened by a porter I did not know. Fair, tall, and broad, probably a Thracian. He studied me uncertainly.

"This is your
domina,
you fool," Livia's groom snapped.

The porter backed away, wide-eyed, bowing profusely. Another unfamiliar face appeared, tall with close-cropped gray hair and an air of quiet authority. "I am Hieronymus, your new steward," he said, bowing even lower than the flustered porter, who was sent in search of Pilate. I hurriedly dismissed Livia's groom, sending him back to her. The less the empress knew of my affairs, the better.

The steward led me down a marble corridor toward a sunlit atrium. Feeling like a stranger in my own home, I looked beyond him into the interior, perhaps a hundred feet or more of successive vistas, light and shadow. I had not expected the villa to be so large. Perhaps, I speculated, Pilate intends for me to live here with Marcella, while he merely visits from time to time as affairs permit. Could that be his plan? How wonderful...if only.

I paused, waiting for Pilate in the atrium. This was an old home, I realized now, the plantings lush and rare. I looked at the splashing marble fountain, the thick pillars wrapped in flowering vines, and thought of Holtan. If only this were our home. Such fantasy. I did not even know if Holtan was all right. He had been bleeding when I last saw him. How could I trust Livia about anything?

Suddenly Pilate was there, towering over me. His eyes searched mine with frightening intensity. "Did you have a good time?"

Heart pounding, I forced a smile. "Such a question! I was with Livia."

"What did she want of you?"

"Did Livia not tell you?" I asked, stalling for time. What was he thinking? "She promised to send word."

"She did. One of her slaves appeared on the doorstep three days ago."

Three days...I had not even reached Holtan's villa. How sure of herself the empress was. Why should that surprise me? "What did he say?"

"Only that you were Livia's guest."

"Hardly a guest! She forced me to attend the Mysteries."

"The Mysteries!" I felt his eyes, curious, speculating. "Why didn't you send word from Rome that you would be delayed?"

"I didn't know then. Livia and I met on the road. She practically abducted me, insisted that I join her in Pompeii."

Pilate raised a quizzical brow. "How extraordinary."

"I thought so too, but what could I do? She is Livia."

"Indeed. What could you do? I trust you were not...hurt in any way?"

"I am fine," I assured him. "I want to see Marcella. Where is she?"

"She's been crying for you off and on all day. I just left her. She's sleeping."

"I must see her." I slipped from his light grasp. The door to Marcella's room was closed, but I quietly opened it and tiptoed past Rachel, who looked up, a relieved smile lighting her face as I approached.

My child's small form was bathed in the glow of a lamp placed beside her couch. A craftsman had fashioned it in the shape of her sweet little foot. I longed to hold Marcella but contented myself with watching her sleep. My eyes caressed her delicate features, the soft dark curls.

"She's very much like you," Pilate murmured. He was at my side.

"More like my sister, I think."

"At times she does remind me of the other Marcella...but then, so do you."

Oh, Isis! What does he mean by that? I turned, tiptoeing out to the hall. Pilate followed.

"Marcella is precious," he said, echoing my own thoughts. "I couldn't bear to lose her. Could you?"

"What a question! I would rather die." My heart raced. Was he threatening me? Then I remembered Pilate's loss, Titania's boy. I looked up, saw for the first time the pale face, the bloodshot eyes. The man was grieving. My apprehension gave way to sympathy. It was unthinkable to lose a child. I lifted my hand, touched his face for an instant, longing to comfort him. There was so much to say, yet none of it could be said. "I am tired." I excused myself. "The Mysteries..."

"You look exhausted. The empress must have been demanding."

A
WEEK PASSED
. P
ILATE SAW FEW CLIENTS AND REMAINED AT HOME
. I felt his thoughtful eyes and was grateful that the Mysteries were secret even to husbands. Then one morning I stepped out onto a balcony and found Pilate staring at the sea. It was a gorgeous summer day. Blue, blue, blue everywhere. Turquoise, indigo, sapphire. Crystal shallows, deep waters, distant sky. Our new villa, with its back to the hillside, its face to the bay, had been built for this sublime panorama.

My eyes traveled to a loosely wrapped scroll that he tapped idly against the wall. It bore the imperial seal. My pulse quickened. "What is it?"

Pilate handed the scroll to me. "See for yourself."

Hurriedly, I scanned the column of script. "What is this? You are to be governor of Judaea!" I exclaimed, looking up at him. "Your first command! I am so happy for you, so proud of you."

Pilate shrugged slightly, frowning. "Judaea has always been a trouble spot, the thorn in Tiberius's side."

"Then it is an opportunity to show him what you can do. Judaea is Rome's bulwark against the Parthians. The emperor has confidence in you or he would not offer such a challenge."

"I am glad you see it that way. Many find Judaea's mountains and deserts attractive. I hope
you
will. Jerusalem is ugly, I hear. The palace there hasn't been renovated in sixty years--not since Antonius and Cleopatra's state visit. Except for official inspections, we need never go there. The provincial palace in Caesarea will be more to your taste. It's considered a showplace. Of course, you can make whatever changes you like to either--"

I stepped back. "I hadn't thought to accompany you, I--"

Pilate lifted my chin, tilting it so our eyes met. "It
is
my first command. I want you at my side, sharing it with me." His cool eyes searched my face. "Even Tiberius thinks it best that you accompany me. Look"--he pointed toward the bottom of the scroll--"the emperor mentions your 'unique instincts.'"

It had not taken Livia long to put her plan in motion. A word to Tiberius and I was effectively banished. Must she always have her way? My thoughts turned to Holtan in Rome. Judaea was the other side of the world. How could I bear to leave him? I couldn't. Then I recalled my vision, saw Holtan's anguished face as he whispered my name. If separation was the only way to ensure his life...

"I must have time," I said at last. If only I could stay on in this lovely house, never seeing Holtan, but at least knowing that he was near.

"Not much time, Claudia."

T
HE FOLLOWING DAY
I
RETURNED FROM A WALK ON THE BEACH TO FIND
Livia waiting in the
nymphaneum
. Whether by chance or design, the couch the empress reclined upon was beneath a statue of Priapus, guardian and motivator of fertility. The villa's previous owners had rubbed the crown of his huge marble phallus shiny smooth with their passing hands. Had it brought them luck? I would need more than that if Livia decided to tell Pilate about Holtan.

She wasted no time with greetings. "You betrayed me!" she accused. "You have made no plans to accompany Pilate to Judaea."

"How do you know that!"

She shrugged impatiently. "How do I know anything! Don't waste more of my time. This is a splendid opportunity for your husband, exactly the chance for which he has been conniving. Too bad Herod the Great is not alive--a delightful man, very popular in Rome. Once the entire senate stood to applaud him..." She paused, lost in thought. "Yes, Herod was a clever one--holding off the Parthians, all the while keeping that barbaric country of his own together. No one has done a decent job since. Of course, his family life was a bit strange. My dear husband once said that it was safer to be Herod's pig than his relative."