Pilate's Wife: A Novel of the Roman Empire (10 page)

"You look like a nymph of the mists."

Pilate stood in the archway watching me, so noble in his white wool tunic. A necklace of star rubies dangled from his hand.

"It was my mother's," he explained, fastening the strand around my neck. I jumped up and flung my arms around him. Pilate laughed softly, holding me back at arm's length. His fingers deftly caressed my throat and shoulders. "Perhaps you should remove this," he said, lifting the small sistrum with one finger.

I backed away. Surely not on a night when I needed all the help that Isis could give. The goddess had treated me well in the past months but never once had I imagined that I could get along without her. I smiled up at my husband, gently removing the charm from his hand and tucking it inside my gown. I would wear his necklace on the outside.

Just then Rachel announced that the first of our guests had arrived. From then on I was kept busy moving from one to the other. At first conversation was an effort for me. I knew that I was being judged and more than a generation divided me from many. The first to arrive were old, really old, Lucius Raecius, bald as an egg, and his wife, Lucretia, leaning heavily on an ebony cane. Fortunately, listening had always come easily to me and none of our friends, young or old, were the least reluctant to speak of themselves. Once I caught Mother watching, a proud smile on her face. My heart surged with pleasure, but even more precious were Pilate's words whispered in passing. "I am a lucky man. You are a woman for every room in the house."

After that I floated. The guests mingled, talk flowed freely. I even found myself chatting easily with Plancina, wondering if I had misjudged the governor's wife. She was more than pleasant, complimenting me first on my gown, then on the couches, the frescoes, the mosaic floor. Apparently she admired everything. "I am surprised that Germanicus and Agrippina aren't here," Plancina said at last. "Surely you invited them?"

I glanced apprehensively at the elaborate water clock. The golden bowl was nearly filled. What could be keeping them? With a murmured excuse, I slipped away. Placing my hand lightly on Pilate's shoulder, I drew him away from a small group. "What shall we do?" I whispered. "The dinner will be ruined if we delay longer."

"If our guests drink much more wine, they won't know the difference."

"I will send a slave to inquire--" Even as I spoke, Rachel appeared and whispered softly, "A messenger has just arrived. The lord Germanicus has been taken ill. The lady Agrippina bids you begin without them. I have taken the liberty--"

I was swept by an ugly sense of certainty--a confirmation of the growing fear I had chosen in my happiness to ignore. Something was very, very wrong.

T
hough it was almost dawn when the last of our guests left, I slept fitfully, plagued by dreams, confusing fragments, frightful pictures of my beloved uncle. Awakening only a few hours later, I gently disengaged myself from Pilate's arms. He was still sleeping as I dressed hurriedly and slipped from the room.

Our groom took me by chariot from the villa to the edge of town, where a city ordinance had recently banned all horse traffic. The dust, the congestion of carts and chariots--not to mention the smell--had gotten out of hand. Now the streets were forbidden to all but foot traffic. As we approached the city gates, the area was jammed with waiting litters, bearers competing raucously for early-bird customers.

I chose the team that appeared most aggressive, but their initial eagerness and brawny muscles proved deceiving. The ride seemed an eternity. "Faster," I urged as we jogged through the early morning streets. "You must go faster!"

At last I reached my destination and ran up the wide marble stairs leading to the villa of Germanicus and Agrippina. The heavy, brass-fitted door opened, but only a crack. A familiar slave peered out, his grim face lighting at the sight of me.

"Good morning, Achilles. I've come to see--"

"Yes, yes,
Domina,
come in." He swung the door open to admit me. "They will be happy that you have come." He led me through the leafy atrium, down the frescoed hall. I'd been there many times, knew the villa well. Nothing had changed, nothing that I could see or touch anyway. "I shall tell them you are here," he said, indicating that I wait in Agrippina's
tablinum
. At one end was a shelf filled with scrolls neatly tucked into their stylish sleeves--bold, bright colors. All the popular writers, my favorite Ovid among them. Augustus would be spinning in his grave if he could see that. The old emperor had banished the poet for work deemed salacious. Now here was his granddaughter displaying Ovid prominently. Idly, I speculated--had any of the scrolls ever been out of their coverings? Vibrant and sociable, Agrippina rarely sat still long enough to read.

Scarcely a moment passed before Caligula appeared in the archway rubbing his eyes sleepily. "Up so early?" he inquired with a smirk. "I am surprised your husband would allow you out of bed. I wouldn't."

How arrogant of him to greet me in his sleeping tunic. "I came about your father," I replied evenly. "What is the matter with Germanicus?"

Caligula shrugged. "I have only just returned from a hunting trip in the north." He settled himself onto a couch. "Sorry to have missed your little party."

"You were not invited, but your parents were. It worries me that they didn't come," I said, sitting down on the couch across from him.

"How sweet you are. Very sweet like your sister. Tell me, how is Marcella?"

How dare he mention her name? Through clenched teeth, I repeated, "I came about your father."

"That was good of you," Agrippina said. I looked up, startled. She had appeared silently, like an apparition in her stained and wrinkled party gown. Auntie's pale face, gaunt in the early morning light, frightened me as I stood to greet her.

"I know I look awful," she apologized, tucking up a strand of hair that straggled over her forehead. "I was up all night with Germanicus. Every day he grows weaker. His surgeons can tell us nothing."

Caligula, still sprawled on the couch, looked up at her. "Mother, I had no idea--"

Agrippina lowered herself wearily onto the couch beside me. "It is worse since you left."

I looked from one to the other. "When did it start?"

"Three months ago, perhaps more. The symptoms began gradually."

I took Agrippina's hands in mine. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"At first we could not believe it, later we did not want to."

"But when you did?" I persisted.

"You were so happy with your marriage plans. We did not want to mar your pleasure. Germanicus would not even tell your parents, though I am certain your father suspects. By now everyone must know."

"Has it grown that bad?" Caligula asked. His questions struck me as strange, not so much what he said but how he said it. He seemed merely polite, almost detached. I have never understood Caligula.

"The progress has been slow," Agrippina explained. "One day he is very ill, the next almost normal. Germanicus looked forward to attending your party, Claudia. He wanted to see you happy in your new home. We planned to come right up until the last minute. Then, as he started to dress, the nausea came over him again. It was terrible...terrible."

A cold certainty closed about my heart. "You suspect poison, don't you?"

Agrippina nodded. "The soldiers would give their lives for Germanicus. He treats the slaves well--they love him. Still I prepare all his meals myself."

Caligula drummed idly on the arm of his couch, a roaring lion's head. "So much wasted effort, the poisoner is not in this house."

"Who then?" The awful coldness persisted as I faced him.

"You cannot guess?"

"If I could, would I ask you?"

"Think about it." Caligula raised a cynical brow. "Who stands to gain most by my father's untimely demise?"

"The governor! It is Piso."

"The governor or his wife," Agrippina answered.

"Plancina?" I frowned, thinking of the dumpy little woman with her permanently rosy cheeks.

"Do you imagine that women are less ruthless than men?" Leaning over, Caligula chucked me under the chin as though I were a child. "How naive you are."

I backed away, ignoring him. "Do you have any proof?" I asked Agrippina.

"Do you know Martina?"

I thought a moment. "Once at the baths she had tried to strike up a friendship. Mother did not encourage her." I recalled Martina's short, stubby fingers, each encircled by a flashy ring. "A rather vulgar-looking woman--all that jewelry."

"Thank-you gifts, no doubt." Caligula's lip curled.

"In exchange for what?" I wanted to know.

"Martina has an evil reputation," Agrippina explained. "She's known to be an abortionist. Some accuse her of witchcraft."

I paused, remembering an afternoon at the central shopping arcade. Plancina's petulant face animated pleasantly for once as her caramel curls bobbed in conversation. Beside her, a dark woman with large emeralds dangling from her ears. "Yes...they're friends, aren't they? Plancina and Martina are friends." Puzzled, I looked up at Agrippina. "Surely you didn't let her into your house. If Martina is the poisoner, how...?"

"If I knew that, would I allow it to happen?" Agrippina's eyes flashed. "I boil every plate and cup, prepare each dish myself. I have chopped grasshoppers and mixed them with egg, I have mashed eels and boiled them in milk. Anything that any doctor or apothecary suggested, I have done myself. I try everything, I do everything, but nothing helps. I'm so afraid..."

Agrippina, who never cried, suddenly seemed to explode into tears, great wracking sobs that shook her body. I put my arms about her, gently stroking her back. "I know you have done everything," I said after the awful crying had ceased. "Now, please let me help. Let me do whatever I can."

Drying her eyes at last, Agrippina rose wearily. She took my hand, leading me to Germanicus's personal quarters. The air felt close, drapes were drawn, torches flickered eerily on the walls. My eyes traveled to a large couch where he lay propped up by pillows. A chill passed through me. Though scarcely a month had passed since the wedding, Germanicus must have lost fifty pounds. His face resembled a death's-head. Impulsively, I dropped to my knees, burying my head in the fur robe he wore despite the heat.

"Don't hide your pretty face," Germanicus said in a tired, reedy voice I would not have recognized. "Sit opposite me where I can see you."

"Uncle, I am going to help care for you," I promised, choking back my tears. "I am going to bring food every day, things I fix myself. Pilate says I am a very good cook. We will have you better in no time."

"My dear girl, there is nothing that you or anyone can do for me. The stench of death is in this house. It grows stronger every day."

"That is nonsense," Agrippina said, grabbing his hand and holding it in hers. "How many times must I tell you,
there is no smell
."

E
ARLY THE NEXT MORNING
R
ACHEL AND
I
SET OFF WITH FIVE LITTERS
filled with flowers and fruit, Numidian chicken and roast young kid that I had prepared with my own hands. En route, I stopped at the temple of Isis. This time I had no difficulty getting to see the mystagogue. In fact, he came himself to the atrium where I waited, greeting me with a quizzical smile. "So you have returned to us."

"Yes." I nodded, taking his outstretched hands. "And once again I have come to ask a favor. It is something highly confidential."

"Indeed? And I thought you had come to take religious instruction."

I darted a look at him; was he laughing at me? "Not now, at least not this time," I said, following him into his consultation room. "I need special incense, something to cleanse the air immediately, something that will remove evil."

"Not for
your
house surely?" he asked, his silky brows raised.

"No, for a dear friend. He has not been well lately and he..."

"Believes himself to be cursed," the mystagogue finished for me.

I hesitated, picking my words carefully. "Something like that. Of course," I assured him and perhaps myself, "it is merely his illness that creates such fancies."

"They are not fancies. The
Dominus
Germanicus
has
been cursed."

I drew back, shocked. "You know!"

"For weeks there have been whispers. Now people speak openly."

"Supposing what you say is true, can you help us?" I looked at the walls behind him, shelves from floor to ceiling filled with bottles and jars.

"I can give you something to make him more comfortable, perhaps poppy seeds ground in honey."

"Surely you can do more than that. Please," I urged, "anything."

"His fate is in the hands of the goddess."

"There must be something..." I searched the mystagogue's face for a sign of encouragement, however faint.

He paused, considering. "The goddess appears to favor you, despite your neglect."

I flushed. "I should have come back weeks ago, but your love charm--"

The mystagogue watched me, I felt him totaling up the cost of my gown, my jewelry. "Obviously succeeded," he finished for me.

"Oh yes! Very well indeed. I cannot thank you enough. Your charm--the goddess's grace--has changed my life, changed it completely. I have been so busy. Learning to be a wife has taken all my time."

"But there is more..."

I looked down, feeling guilty. "My husband does not understand about Isis. The idea that I should seek something more, something outside our home bothers him. I love my husband, I want to please him in every way." I forced myself to meet the mystagogue's eyes. "Love is everything--is it not?"

"There are many who think so, for a time."

"It will always be that way for us," I assured him.

"But now there is the
Dominus
Germanicus. You wish a remedy for him? It occurs to me that you might demonstrate your sincerity to the goddess with a gift."

"A gift? Of course, anything. What shall I give?"

"Celibacy is customary for a woman requesting a boon."

I felt myself coloring. "We have only been married a few weeks...Celibacy for how long?"

The mystagogue smiled. "Merely for the duration of the
Dominus
Germanicus's illness."

"Merely! Who knows how long that will take."

"You say your uncle is very ill...perhaps dying?"

"Yes," I whispered. "You are right, it is a small price to pay." But what about Pilate?

A
GRIPPINA AND
I
SAW TO IT THAT EACH ROOM WAS SCRUBBED DOWN,
then filled with fragrant blossoms. The strong but pleasing incense prepared by the mystagogue wafted through the entire house, yet Germanicus insisted that the smell of death pervaded everything.

I dismissed his complaint, but as days passed and I arrived each morning with fresh flowers and more incense, a strange, indefinable odor became apparent. The smell was vaguely sweet yet increasingly unpleasant. I hesitated to mention it to Agrippina, who looked more frightened with each passing day. Then the morning came when Auntie brought it up herself.

"I have noticed a bad smell for days, but did not want to admit it."

"Surely there is a natural cause," I insisted.

"Surely," Agrippina echoed faintly.

But was there?

"I feel so hopeless," I admitted to Mother later that afternoon as we sat drinking snow-chilled grape juice on her balcony. "Nothing we do helps. I am frightened and I cannot talk to Pilate. He has grown so distant..."

"Distant?" She looked up, frowning. "Why should he be distant? Surely he is concerned about Germanicus?"

"Very concerned. Germanicus is a friend as well as his patron. It is just that..." My voiced trailed off. I knew better than to discuss my bargain with Isis. Mother would never understand, but perhaps...I took a deep breath. "I know how you feel about Agrippina, but if you saw her...She adores Germanicus and now he...he is dying before her eyes."

Mother's lips tightened. "Do not involve me, Claudia. Agrippina likes to do things her own way."

"She is different now. You would scarcely know her. Suppose it was
Tata
. Doe this terrible tragedy not go beyond past differences?"

Mother looked down as though considering the depth of her goblet. "Yes, I suppose it does," she said at last, putting the glass aside. "Of course it does."

W
E MARSHALED THE SLAVES
. T
HE SCRUBBING BEGAN ANEW
. T
HIS
time, Mother noticed a loose tile in the floor of Germanicus's bedroom. Lifting it, she discovered the decaying corpse of a baby. "Ugh!" she shrieked. The slaves backed off in disgust. Recovering herself, Mother picked up the dead baby and handed it to the nearest slave. "Burn this poor creature, burn it immediately--outside the building. Then search every room in the villa."