Authors: Bertrice Small
He had obeyed his parents, although he was not happy with the decision they had made for him. Britain was at the end of the earth, and its climate was foul. Everyone knew that. Still, he could not stay in Rome, at least not right now. Armilla Cicero was becoming most demanding. She had told him last night that she was pregnant, and that they would have to marry. Her father was very powerful; Quintus Drusus knew that he could make life most uncomfortable for any
man he thought had made his daughter unhappy. It was better to leave Rome.
Armilla would have an abortion, as she had had on a number of occasions. He was not the first man she had cast her nets for, nor would he be the last. It was really quite a shame, Quintus thought, for Senator Cicero was a wealthy man, but his two other sons-in-law lived unhappily beneath his thumb. That was not the kind of life Quintus Drusus envisioned for himself. He would be his own man.
Nor, it occurred to him as he approached the villa of his cousin, Gaius Drusus Corinium, did he have in mind a lifetime spent farming in Britain. Still, for now there was nothing else he could do. Eventually he would think of a plan, and he would be gone, back to Rome, with a pocket full of gold coin that would keep him comfortable all of his days.
He saw a handful of people come out of the villa to greet him, and forced a smile upon his extremely handsome face. The man, tall, with dark brown hair and light eyes, was like no Drusus he had ever seen, but was obviously his cousin Gaius. The woman, tall, with a fine, high bosom and dark red hair, must be his cousin’s wife. The older woman with white hair was her mother, no doubt. His father had told him that their cousin Gaius’s Celtic mother-in-law lived with them. The two almost-grown boys were images of their father. They were sixteen; close to manhood really.
And there was a girl
.
Quintus Drusus was close enough now to see her quite clearly. She was tall like the rest of her family, taller, he thought irritably, than he was himself. He did not like tall women. Her hair was a rich auburn, a long, curly mass of untidy ringlets that suggested an untamed nature. She was very fair of skin with excellent features; straight nose, large eyes, a rosebud of a mouth. She was actually one of the most beautiful females he had ever seen, but he disliked her on sight.
“Welcome to Britain, Quintus Drusus,” Gaius said as the young man drew his horse to a stop before them and dismounted.
“I thank you, cousin,” Quintus Drusus replied, and then
politely greeted each of the others as they were introduced. To his amazement, he sensed that his proposed bride disliked him even as he did her. Still, a man did not have to like a woman to wed her, and get a proper number of children on her. Cailin Drusus was a wealthy young woman who represented his future. He didn’t intend to let her get away.
For the next few days he waited for his cousin, Gaius, to broach the matter of the marriage contract and set a wedding date. Cailin avoided him as if he were a carrier of the plague. Finally, after ten days, Gaius took him aside one morning.
“I promised your father that because of the bonds of blood binding our two families,” the older man began, “I would give you the opportunity to make a new life for yourself here in Britain. I have therefore signed over to you a fine villa and farm with a producing orchard by the river. It has all been done quite legally and filed properly with the magistrate in Corinium. You will have the slaves you need to work your lands. You should do quite well, Quintus.”
“But I know nothing about farming!” Quintus Drusus burst out.
Gaius smiled. “I am aware of that, my boy. How could a fine fellow like yourself, brought up in Rome, know anything about the land? But we will teach you, and help you to learn.”
Quintus Drusus told himself he must not lose his temper. Perhaps he could sell this farm and its villa and escape back to Rome. But Gaius’s next words dashed all his hopes in that direction.
“I bought the river farm from the estate of old Septimus Agricola several years back. It has lain fallow since then. I was fortunate to get it cheap from the heirs who live in Glevum. Property values are down even further now for those wishing to sell, but they are an excellent value for those wishing to buy.”
There was no quick escape, then, Quintus Drusus thought gloomily, but once his marriage to Cailin was settled, they would at least be monied. “When,” he asked his cousin, “do you propose to celebrate the marriage between your daughter and myself?”
“Marriage?
Between you and Cailin?” Gaius Drusus wore a puzzled face.
“My father said there would be a marriage between your daughter and myself, cousin. I thought I came to Britain to be a bridegroom, to unite our two branches of the family once again.” Quintus Drusus’s handsome face showed his barely restrained anger.
“I am so sorry, Quintus. Your father must have misunderstood me, my boy,” Gaius said. “I but offered you an opportunity here in Britain where there was none for you in Rome. I felt it my duty because of our blood ties. Now if you and Cailin should fall in love one day, I should certainly not object to your marrying my daughter, but there was no contract for a marriage enacted between our two families. I regret your confusion.” He smiled warmly, and patted the younger man’s arm. “Cailin is still just half grown. If I were you, my boy, I should seek a strong, healthy woman from amongst our neighbors’ daughters. We are celebrating the festival of manhood, the Liberalia, for our twin sons in a few days. Many of our neighbors and their families will be attending. It will be a good time for you to look over the local maidens. You are a good catch, Quintus. Remember, you are a man of property now!”
No marriage. No marriage
. The words burned in his brain. Quintus Drusus had not been privy to the correspondence between his father and his cousin Gaius, but he had been quite certain his father believed a marriage was to take place between himself and Cailin Drusus. Had his father misunderstood? He was not a young man by any means, being some twenty years older than Gaius Drusus.
Or had his father known all along that there would be no marriage? Had Manius Drusus tricked him into leaving Rome because Gaius was willing to offer him lands of his own? Did Manius Drusus dangle a rich marriage before his youngest child because he knew that he would not go otherwise? It was the only explanation Quintus Drusus could come up with. His cousin Gaius seemed an honest man in all respects. Not at all like that sly old Roman fox, his father.
Quintus Drusus almost groaned aloud with frustration, running a hand through his black hair. He was marooned at the end of the earth in Britain.
He was to be a farmer:
He shuddered with distaste, seeing a long, dull life filled with goats and chickens stretching ahead of him. There would be no more glorious gladiatorial battles at the Colosseum to watch, or chariot racing along the Appian Way. No summers on Capri, with its warm blue waters and endless sunshine, or visits to some of the most incredible brothels in the world, with their magnificent women who catered to all tastes.
Perhaps if he could get that little bitch Cailin to fall in love with him … No. That would take a miracle. He did not believe in miracles. Miracles were for religious fanatics like the Christians. Cailin Drusus had made her dislike plain from the moment they laid eyes on one another. She was barely civil when they were in the presence of their elders, and ignored him when they found themselves alone. He certainly did not want a wife as outspoken and unbridled as this girl was. Women with Celtic blood seemed to be that way. His cousin’s wife and mother-in-law were also outspoken and independent.
Quintus Drusus made an effort to swallow his disappointment. He was alone in a strange land, hundreds of leagues from Rome. He needed the goodwill and the influence of Gaius Drusus and his family. He had nothing, not even the means to return home. If he could not have Cailin, and the fat dowry her father would undoubtedly settle on her one day, there would be another girl with another fat dowry. He now needed Cailin’s friendship, and the friendship of her mother, Kyna, if he was to find a rich wife.
Quintus’s young cousins, Flavius and Titus, would be celebrating their sixteenth birthdays on the twentieth of March. The Liberalia fell on March 17. The manhood ceremony was always celebrated on the festival nearest a boy’s birthday—although which birthday was up to the discretion of the parents.
On that special day, a boy put aside the red-edged toga of his childhood, receiving in its place the white toga of manhood.
Here in Britain it would be a mostly symbolic affair, for the men did not normally wear togas. The climate was too harsh, as Quintus had discovered. He had quickly adopted the warm, light wool tunic and cross-gartered braccos of the Romano-Britons.
Still, the old customs of the Roman family were kept, if for no other reason than they made wonderful excuses to get together with one’s neighbors. It was at these gatherings that matches were made, as well as arrangements to crossbreed livestock. They gave friends a chance to meet once again, for unnecessary travel on a regular basis was simply no longer possible. Each party setting out for the villa of Gaius Drusus Corinium made burnt offerings and prayers to their gods that they would arrive safely, and return home in safety.
On the morning of the Liberalia, Quintus Drusus said to Kyna in Cailin’s presence, “You will have to introduce me to all the eligible women and maidens today, my lady. Now that my cousin Gaius has so generously made me a man of property, I will be seeking a wife to share my good fortune with me. I rely on your wisdom in this matter, even as I would rely on my own sweet mother, Livia.”
“I am certain,” Kyna told him, “that such a handsome young man as yourself will have no trouble finding a wife.” She turned to her daughter. “What think you, Cailin? Who would best please our cousin? There are so many pretty girls among our acquaintances ready to wed.”
Cailin looked at her cousin. “You will want a wife with a good dowry, will you not, Quintus? Or will you simply settle for virtue,” she said wickedly. “No, I do not think you will settle for just virtue.”
He forced a laugh. “You are too clever by far, little cousin. With such a sharp tongue, I wonder if you will ever find a husband for yourself. A man likes a little honey with his speech.”
“There will be honey aplenty for the right man,” Cailin said pertly, smiling with false sweetness at him.
Earlier that morning Titus and Flavius had removed the golden bullae that they had worn around their necks since
their twin births. The bullae, amulets for protection against evil, were then laid upon the altar of the family gods. A sacrifice was made, and the bullae were hung up, never to be worn again unless their owners found themselves in danger of the envy of their fellow men, or of the gods.
The twins next dressed themselves in white tunics, which, according to custom, their father carefully adjusted. Since they descended from the noble class, the tunics donned by Titus and Flavius Drusus had two wide crimson stripes. Finally, over each of their tunics was draped the snow-white toga virilis, the garment of a man considered grown.
Had they lived in Rome, a procession consisting of family, friends, freedmen, and slaves would have wound its way in joyful parade to the Forum, where the names of the two sons of Gaius Drusus would have been added to the list of citizens. It had been the custom since the time of the emperor Aurelian that all births be registered within thirty days in Rome, or with the official provincial authorities; but only when a boy formally became a man was his name entered in the rolls as a citizen. It was a proud moment. The names of Titus and Flavius Drusus Corinium would be entered in the list kept in the town of Corinium, and an offering would be made to the god Liber at that time.
Just as their neighbors and friends began to arrive for the family celebration, Cailin took her brothers aside. “Cousin Quintus would like us to introduce him to prospective wives,” she said, her eyes twinkling. “I think we should help him. He will be gone all the sooner. I can barely remain civil in his presence.”
“Why do you dislike him so, Cailin?” Flavius asked her. “He has done nothing to you. Once Father told him there would be no marriage between you, you should have felt more at ease. Instead you take every opportunity to snipe at him. I do not understand.”
“He seems a good fellow to me,” Titus agreed with his twin. “His manners are flawless, and he rides well. I think Father was correct when he told Quintus that you were too young for marriage.”
“I am not too young for marriage should the right man come along,” Cailin responded. “As for Quintus Drusus, there is something about him that my voice within warns me of, but I know not what it is. I simply think he is a danger to us all. The sooner he is gone to the river villa and settled with a wife, the happier I will be! Now, what girls do you feel would suit him?
Think!
You two know every eligible, respectable, and not so respectable maiden for miles around.”
They laughed in unison, rolling their eyes at one another, for if there was one thing Cailin’s brothers liked, it was the ladies—so much so that Gaius Drusus was declaring his sons men in order to find them wives and marry them off before they caused a scandal by impregnating some man’s daughter or, worse, being caught debauching some man’s wife.
“There is Barbara Julius,” Flavius said thoughtfully. “She is a handsome girl with nice big breasts. Good for babies.”
“And Elysia Octavius, or Nona Claudius,” Titus volunteered.
Cailin nodded. “Yes, they would all be suitable. I like none of them so well that I would warn them off our cousin, Quintus.”
The families from the surrounding estates were arriving. The twins made their suggestions to their mother, and Kyna dutifully made the proper introductions. Quintus Drusus’s handsome face, coupled with his lands, made him more than eligible.
“He needs three arms,” Cailin said dryly to her grandmother, “for Barbara, Nona, and Elysia will certainly end up in a cat fight trying to hold on to him. Will I have to simper like that to gain a man’s attention and devotion? It’s disgusting!”