Pilate's Wife: A Novel of the Roman Empire (25 page)

T
he night was hot. I wore only a loose white tunica, open wide at the neck and sleeves. Leaning forward, clinging to my horse's mane, I drove him faster. Far below me, a string of seaside villas glittered like a priceless bracelet, stretched as far as I could see.

The rough, mountainous route I chose kept me off the main thoroughfare where I would be seen, yet even on these wretched roads I sometimes had to hide behind boulders or among clumps of trees to avoid other travelers. Or were they merely travelers? Peasant women rarely traveled unattended, and here was I, alone, riding a fine-looking horse.

A man stepped out onto the road and attempted to block the way. He grabbed at the reins, but I spurred my mount onward. After a few paces he gave up. Trembling with fear, I pressed my knees against the horse, urging him on. Holtan so near now, soon we would be together.

Emerging from a clump of trees, I looked down, scanning the lights below. Stabiae! Time to cut down to the sea. Letting the horse pick his way carefully, I wound down to the paved road that skimmed the cliffs, one sharp curve following another. A full moon hung low over the sea as my horse rounded yet another bend. At last the massive outlines of Holtan's villa loomed before me. Unlike the other seaside homes I had glimpsed, it was built fortresslike out over a cliff. As I approached the high terra-cotta wall, an arched gate opened. Torch-bearing slaves rushed forward, lighting my way through fragrant gardens, past statues, fountains, across a mosaic terrace alive with leaping dolphins.

Holtan ran toward me, a radiant smile lighting his face. My terror melted at the feel and smell of him as he lifted me from the horse's back and carried me inside. "My darling, my foolish wild one," he murmured into my hair. "Could anyone have followed you?"

"Does it matter now? I am here."

Holtan spoke to his steward, orders I didn't catch. Turning to me, he smiled again. "Wait till you see what I have prepared for you." I moved closer, comforted as always by his rough-edged voice. Taking my hand, he led me down a corridor--a blur of white marble and bright frescoes--then flung open a door.

My breath caught. "Do you like it?" Holtan asked. His eyes searched my face.

I looked beyond him to a fresco that dominated the far wall: The classic Venus rising from the sea. But the wide gray eyes and curly mane were my own.

He smiled at me. "She
is
your ancestor."

"A family myth I never believed."

Holtan regarded me solemnly. "I believe it." His hand moved lightly down the small of my back.

There was so much to see. Polished moonstones set into the walls reflected a forest of crystal lamps suspended from the ceiling. Their glow rippled like a mirage. Sheer draperies, a sea spray of blues and greens, and a sensuous mass of silken cushions created an oasis of peace and harmony. I looked up at Holtan. "Everything is perfect--the feeling of the room--my favorite colors--how did you do it?"

His face relaxed into a broad grin. "My men and I--we only finished this afternoon."

"But my likeness. How did you do that?"

"Did you not see the artist when you were in my dining house?"

Happy tears stung my eyes. In this magnificent room I would play a game, imagining for however short a time that we were married. Unable to trust my voice, I took Holtan's hand, kissing a hardened scar on his palm. My eyes strayed to the fresco above the bed. Another classic image imposed itself from memory. Venus and Mars snared in a golden net, captured by the goddess's jealous husband, and revealed to all the gods in the very moment of their union. But Pilate could not know. I had sent word that I was staying an extra day to oversee improvements to the
culina
. Surely he was too busy with some new mistress to even think of me.

Holtan slipped his arm around my shoulders. "Our bath has been drawn."

Having ridden far and fast, I could smell the musk odor of my horse's flanks still clinging to me as we entered an adjoining room. Steam rose from the circular pool. I relished the thought of soaking away the grime of the journey.

Holtan paused before a marble table where a silver wine service gleamed. "Would you like--?"

I nodded, throat parched from the long ride, watching his large hands unexpectedly deft as he poured equal parts of claret and snow-chilled water into two iridescent goblets. He handed one to me. "A honey cake?" he asked, raising the platter toward me.

I shook my head, pulling at the clips that bound my tangled hair until it tumbled loose. "You make a fine steward." I smiled at him over the rim of my glass.

"I like doing things for you."

"And I for you."

He watched me as I sipped. The wine was rich and full bodied with a subtle taste I could not place.

"It's the volcanic ash in the soil," he said, answering my unspoken question.

I reached up, tracing the cleft in his chin. "Rare wine a volcano's gift? Not unlike my life." After devastation had come the greatest gift. I had lost so many loved ones, yet here I was enjoying this moment as no other. Draining the goblet, I placed it on the table and quickly slipped out of my tunica.

Holtan dropped to his knees. Voice husky, he whispered, "Too fast, let me do that." The glaze of mosaic tile felt soothing underfoot as he removed my sandals. I ran my fingers lightly through his thick blond hair. Then I stood, allowing his hands to caress my body before I slid into the pool. Smiling with easy satisfaction, he shed his clothing and plunged in after me, splashing warm water across the tiles.

Above us a vaulted ceiling painted with dolphins and sea sirens floated and billowed in the light of a golden candelabrum. I looked into Holtan's amber eyes, my fear and fatigue replaced now by anticipation more intoxicating than any wine. We could wait no longer. Slippery from the bath oils, we slid from movement to movement, into and around each other, until our merging bodies became all--the air we breathed, the wine we tasted, and, at last, the couch we lay upon.

A scream shattered the silence. Heavy pounding and splintering wood in the next room. Holtan leaped up, his goblet crashing on the mosaic. Shards of glass, rivulets of wine spilled like blood across frolicking nymphs and satyrs. Frantically, I reached for a towel, wrapped it around my body with shaking hands. Was it Pilate?

I turned slowly to confront a phalanx of soldiers, swords drawn. They parted to reveal an even more deadly intruder. "Livia!"

She stepped forward, a slender purple column, formidable as always. The empress tilted her head to one side, surveying me. "Claudia, you never cease to amaze me. Who could imagine that such a quiet one would have as her lover the mightiest gladiator in the Empire. And you, Holtan"--the empress turned to him--"you, who might choose any woman, what do you see in this spare little thing? Has she bewitched you? Shall I charge her with sorcery as well as adultery?"

Holtan's hands clenched. "Leave my home. Leave now! Guards!"

"No use calling, Holtan. My soldiers found them easy prey."

I caught my breath as Holtan moved threateningly toward her.

Livia merely smiled. "Boldness has served you well, Holtan. So many victories. Even my son admires your prowess. It would be a pity to see Tiberius disillusioned. He can be extremely resourceful when dealing with fallen idols. Only recently he ordered priests from the Temple of Isis crucified--no doubt friends of yours, Claudia."

Livia appraised the room, her patrician nose taking in the scent of oils and fine wine. "You have come far for a slave, Holtan. Are they all like you in Dacia? So strong, you northern barbarians. But you have been lucky as well."

She's toying with us the way a lioness amuses herself with prey, I thought, as Livia's eyes shifted back to me. She looked older than the last time I had seen her but no less deadly.

"Fortuna has been generous with you as well, Claudia." Livia's hand, blue-veined and weighted by rings, traced a figure of Mars inlaid in ivory on the Etruscan table beside her. "Fate appears to have left you untouched. Does your 'sight' reveal what I shall do about that?"

"Would I have come if it had?"

The empress smiled, her glittering eyes amused.

"Well, well, well--" Caligula stood in the doorway, the corners of his Cupid's mouth curling as he took in the scene. His smile broadened as he turned to Livia. "I wondered why you left so suddenly and with such a heavy guard. Aren't you going to invite me in?"

The empress turned, her stiff movements regal still. For an instant I caught a look of surprised annoyance as she faced him. At Livia's nod the guards yielded, allowing Caligula to strut into the room. He was in full uniform with breastplate and crested helmet.

"Do forgive my intrusion," he purred. "It is always a pleasure to see you, Claudia...and now to see so much of you. We don't meet often enough these days." Caligula gestured to a guard to pour him wine. Drinking slowly, with obvious enjoyment, he nodded to Holtan. "Very good Falerian. I heard you had the best vineyard in southern Italy." His heavy-lidded eyes shifted back to me, resting on my naked thighs. "Seeing you like this, my dear, so casually dressed, takes me back to our childhood, those carefree days on the Rhine." His gloating eyes looked fevered.

I shuddered, remembering the hapless barnyard creatures he had tormented when we were children. Meeting his speculative glance, I made no attempt to disguise my loathing.

Unperturbed, he continued to taunt me. "You and Marcella were charming playmates. A pity about Marcella. She was lovely, so spirited, so affectionate..."

Caligula's eyes slid over Holtan's body, barely concealed by the towel hastily thrown about his waist. "Ah, I am in luck! Life with great-grandmother is quiet, not much excitement there. How fortunate I am to discover a celebrity in an arena of a different sort."

Holtan lunged forward, taking him by surprise. Caligula, despite his armor, was no match. He shrieked like a girl as Holtan grabbed the sword from his belt. Pinioning Caligula's arms behind his back, Holtan used him as shield, brandishing the sword before them at the Guards.

"Run, Claudia," he cried. "Get out!"

I darted toward the door only to face more soldiers. One grabbed me. The others, swords drawn, rushed Holtan. He held them at bay. Caligula struggled free only to slip on the wet floor. Cursing violently, he pulled himself up, reached for a sword, and started toward Holtan.

As the guards moved in, pushing the circle tighter, Caligula cried out: "No!
I
want him." Four of the guards secured Holtan as he advanced.

"You cannot!" I pleaded, struggling with the soldier who held me.

"Oh yes, I can. He's mine."

"He will die when I choose," Livia said coolly.

"Grandmother!" Caligula pouted. "He belongs to me."

"I shall decide that. Now get out! I have had enough of you for one night."

Caligula, his face mottled with anger, stalked out.

Livia turned toward me. "And now, Claudia--" The guard's grip tightened.

This is it, I thought. Somehow I had always believed that rules were made for others. Now, when it mattered most, Fortuna had deserted me. I felt the cold dagger on my throat, closed my eyes, stiffening with fear. I would not scream.

"Put on your clothes, Claudia," the empress ordered. "You are coming with me."

I
t was hours since Livia had spoken a word to me. Arms and legs tightly bound, I sat across from her in the royal carriage awaiting her command. Again and again, visions of Holtan as I had last seen him, helpless and bleeding, tormented me. What were they doing to him? Was he even alive? At the empress's insistence the curtains had remained closed, but I sensed we had been traveling for some time through open country. Where were we going? What awful death had Livia planned for me? I thought again and again of Holtan and Marcella, longed to hold them one last time.

At last, the carriage slowed. I heard voices, but couldn't make out the words. Our wheels rumbled over paving stones. I heard flutes, drums, merchants' cries, and beggars' wails. Food sizzled nearby, delicious smells. How long since I had eaten? Livia's eyes were shut, her mouth slightly open. I wiggled across the seat, pushing the curtain open with my shoulder. We passed a market, a public bath, and a small forum. It could be any Roman town, but which? The carriage rounded a corner. Before us was a splashing fountain, beside it an outdoor restaurant. Now I knew! Pilate and I had stopped there on a summer holiday. Livia had brought me to Pompeii. But why?

Livia's eyes snapped open. "Close the curtain!" she demanded. "Faster!" she cried, banging the carriage's ceiling with the gold knob of her cane. "Faster!" The horses' steady trot quickened. People in the street jumped back. We were flying.

I turned to face her. "Won't you at least tell me what you have done to Holtan?"

"Your lover is on his way to Rome. I have decided to turn him over to Caligula."

"You would not dare! Holtan is far too popular. The people wouldn't stand for it."

Livia laughed. "Did popularity help Germanicus or your dear auntie Agrippina? The people have notoriously short memories--as do you."

"You think you're so powerful! There's something you want--I
know
it."

The mocking expression in Livia's eyes flickered for an instant. "Indeed? Now what could that be?"

"I don't know, but it has to do with me."

"How very perceptive of you. Of course I want something. Why else would I have allowed you to live--and allowed your child to live? Remember, my dear, you are not the last of your line."

Marcella too! Oh, Isis, no! I struggled to appear calm.

Livia smiled, her eyes gloating. "I have watched you for some time, observing the progress of your little affair--" She paused again reflectively. "You thought you were so clever with your disguises, your little love nests. You never dreamed that I..." She was sneering now. "It was amusing at times."

"How dare you!"

"My dear, I dare anything that suits my purposes. Now it's
your
turn."

A warning chill raised bumps on my arms. "What are you talking about?"

"You are the intuitive one.
You
tell me; that is why I have brought you here."

The carriage came to a stop. I was certain Livia could hear my pounding heart. She watched me appraisingly as a hunter might a trapped animal.

"Your little dalliance with Holtan would have been of no earthly interest if it had not reminded me of your prediction years ago. A lucky guess, I thought at first, but since then there have been rumors. Those dreams you have...Some say you are a witch."

I waited, refusing to take her bait.

Finally, Liva continued. "My life has been full. I have everything I could want, except..." She paused, regarding me speculatively.

I returned her stare, aware suddenly of how frail Livia looked. How old was she? Sixty? Sixty-five? The lines about her eyes and mouth, the crepey neck. No amount of artifice could hide them forever. Of course! "Except immortality. You want to live forever."

"Very good! But you are wrong if you imagine that I want to live on in this worn-out body. The priests have assured me that I will be made a goddess. Is it not fitting that I reign in heaven beside my husband, the Divine Augustus?"

I shrugged. "What has that to do with me?"

"You have powers. You see the future."

"You exaggerate any ability that I might have. I can't--"

"Oh yes, you can, for you yourself are about to die. Perhaps, if Fortuna wills it, you will return to tell me what you have seen."

"Oh, my goddess, no!"

"Oh yes, my dear, yes. Pray long and hard to your Isis, for you are about to enter the Villa of Mysteries.
If
you survive the ordeal and, more important,
if
you bring back the knowledge I seek, your baby will live."

I forced myself to look straight into her malevolent eyes. "And Holtan?"

"My dear, you are hardly in a position to bargain."

"Holtan, too, or I will surely die and you will learn nothing. Promise on your honor--on the honor of the goddess you hope to become."

"You are a cheeky one! But yes, Holtan too. Now get on with it."

A slave pushed aside the curtain. At a nod from Livia, he cut my bonds, then pulled me roughly from the carriage. I looked up at Livia. "You are not coming?"

"I must first discipline Caligula. He was a naughty boy to follow me against my orders. I cannot allow that. But never fear, you will feel my presence. Be certain of it."

Two guards who had ridden behind us, leaped from their horses, positioning themselves on either side of me. "Take her!" Livia commanded them. With a firm hand beneath each elbow, they half dragged me onto the portico. As we reached the top, the door opened and a woman stepped into view.

"You have her now," Livia said. "You know what to do."

The woman bowed to the empress and the carriage rolled on. "I am Portia Proxius," she said to me. Her extended hands were delicate, too small for the heavy rings she wore. "We have been waiting for you."

"This is your home?" I asked, looking curiously at the small, elegant figure. "Livia called it the Villa of Mysteries. I have heard strange rumors...women have disappeared from here..." I hesitated, trying to reconcile Portia in her filmy gray
stola
with the bizarre stories whispered about the villa.

She pushed back a dark, glossy curl, slightly tinged with silver. "Surely the empress told you about us. She is our patron." Portia opened the door wide to admit me.

I looked at her with surprise. "Livia comes here? "

"Sometimes, when affairs of state permit. Many of her closest friends are part of our group. You may recognize some." She gestured toward the atrium before us where a group of women silently watched.

"Claudia has joined us at last," Portia announced. The women greeted me, their manners impeccable, yet curiosity, perhaps even appraisal, shone in their eyes. I had a nodding acquaintance with several--a few senators' wives, the owner of a large greenhouse filled with rare plants. I had rented garden slaves from her only a month before. What were they doing here?

One woman sat alone in a leafy corner of the atrium. The scroll she had been holding slipped unheeded to the floor as her eyes met mine. What eyes! Deep green, set wide apart. For an instant I thought of my sister. The two looked nothing alike...yet there was something...I had seen this woman before, but where?

She rose slowly and walked toward me, a slim hand extended. "I am Miriam of Magdala. We met at the Asklepion in Pergamum."

"Of course!" I stepped forward, taking her hand, remembering the worldly woman who had livened those dreadful days. "It has been a long time, more than three years--so much has happened since then."

Miriam nodded. "For me as well."

"It is too bad that you cannot spend the remainder of the day chatting in the atrium with us," Portia apologized crisply, "but you know the rules."

"I know nothing." My fears increased at the pity I read in Miriam's limpid eyes.

"I should have thought the empress..." Portia took my arm. "You will know everything in time." She led me away from the atrium's brilliance, down a shaded passageway. The black and white floor tiles swam crazily before my eyes as we passed a
tablinum
guarded by a bronze bust of Livia.

Portia opened a heavy door at the end of the hallway and held it for me. Reluctantly, I stepped inside. The room, hardly more than a cell, contained a narrow cot with a small table and chair. The only adornment was a large statue of Dionysus. How strange in such an opulent house. "Are all your guest rooms this spartan?" I asked Portia. "Perhaps I might have something to eat? It is afternoon, and I have had nothing since yesterday."

"I am sorry on both counts, but you know the rules."

"Stop saying that! I
don't
know the rules. Who are you?"

"The mistress of the ritual."

"What ritual? Who are those women?"

"Ladies from the highest classes, like yourself," Portia assured me.

"What about the red-haired one? Miriam? Who is she?"

"How astute you are! Miriam is a bit different. She is a courtesan."

"You knew that and invited her?"

"Of course, we know the backgrounds of all our devotees. She is of the very highest order, somewhat similar to your husband's favorite. What is her name...Titania."

"If your purpose is to humiliate me--"

"Not at all." Portia touched my arm lightly. "I merely meant that women like Titania and Miriam are welcome anywhere. Both are wealthy and well connected, but that, of course, is where the similarity ends. Titania cares only for powerful men. Miriam is quite different. She is philosophical, a patron of the arts, some might even say spiritual."

"Then why did she become a harlot?"

"Oh, that is harsh. Is her life so different from your own? Miriam at least has independence."

"Then what is she doing here? What are any of you doing here?"

"We are as we seem...women with the means and inclination to attain power beyond earthly imagination."

My throat constricted. I could barely speak. "What do you want of me?"

Portia's dark eyes glittered as they swept over my body. "Tonight you will be the bride of Dionysus."

I
LAY ON A NARROW COT
. B
EFORE ME WAS A STATUE OF THE GOD, HIS
handsome face veiled and unveiled by smoke from the pungent incense burning at his feet. Head reeling from the heavy fumes, I felt infused by Dionysus's life-giving, seminal moisture, pure, mindless, liberating.

Dionysus brings wildness; a faraway voice warned of terror as well as ecstasy. The god's frenzied devotees tear animals apart. In their madness, sometimes they devour each other. Was I to be their victim? Pulling myself off the cot, I pounded on the door with all the vigor my strangely languorous hands could summon. What was the matter with me? In the distance I heard approaching footsteps.

"Yes,
Domina,
we are coming," a voice assured me. A moment or so later I heard the bolt scrape and the door swing open. Two female slaves bowed low before me. Each carried a thyrsus, a kind of wand with a pinecone wound into the staff. I had seen it pictured in countless frescoes. Were they maenads, handmaidens of Dionysus?

One slave stepped forward. "If it pleases the goddess, we have come to prepare you."

"If it pleases the goddess? "I echoed, the words slow to my tongue.

Portia, standing behind them, beckoned. "We honor you tonight as Ariadne."

"Ariadne!" My legs went limp. I would have fallen had it not been for the slaves. All my life I had cherished a connection with Ariadne. What cruel irony was this? I struggled to keep my voice steady. "What do you mean?"

"There is no need for you to understand," Portia murmured. "It is enough that you
are
Ariadne and will soon join your divine lover. Come, my dear."

Kithara music filled the passage. Golden candelabra shaped like many branched trees had been set in wall niches along the corridor. Every surface of the hall gleamed luminously. I leaned heavily on the slaves who led me to a marble bath where they removed my clothing. Slipping into the water, I saw the likeness of Dionysus smiling down from the ceiling.

The women's hands, gloved in sponges, caressed my naked body. I raised an arm to wave them off, then languidly dropped it. I had lost the will to resist. Their insistence, the pressure of the soft sea sponges, the trickle of soapy water down the valley of my breasts was surprisingly pleasant. Too soon they helped me from the bath, patting me dry with soft linen towels. The slaves covered my body with gold dust, anointed my thighs and breasts with sandalwood. As if in a dream, I felt the sheerest gossamer slip over my head. Examining the delicate fabric, I saw hundreds of tiny brilliants. "They look like stars," I heard myself say in a strange, breathless voice.

"They
are
stars." Portia purred like a tender mother. "Tonight you are the Queen of Heaven."

I shook my head to clear it. "Ariadne's lover abandoned her. Some say she died."

"But she returned transformed," Portia gently reminded me. "Ariadne's
mortal
lover abandoned her--as so often happens--but Dionysus came for her as he will come for you." Portia placed a bridal crown of myrtle on my head. "You, too, oh, lovely one--daughter of mighty Minos--shall reign as a goddess and know all that a goddess knows."

She guided me down the hall. A door was thrust open. My breath caught at the sight before me. Women wrapped in panther skins crowded the room. Many struck cymbals, pounded drums, or blew flutes. Others, twined with garlands, danced and sang. I could not understand the wild and blurry words, nor did I recognize the celebrants, for they wore masks. Above their swaying breasts and smooth shoulders were the heads of lions and leopards.

They surrounded me, twisting and writhing, weaving one circle, then two and three. As they drank freely from wineskins passed among them, the women's cries grew louder. The music, the wine, the excitement of the dancers was infectious. Someone offered me a cup. "Drink the wine of Dionysus." As I savored the contents, unlike anything I had ever tasted, my fears melted. I am a force of nature, I am the sap running in a tree, the blood pounding in the veins, the liquid fire of the grape. Was this not how life was meant to be--drinking the sweet red wine and smelling the rich musky fragrance of the women pushing in around me?