‘To symbolise this union, witnessed by the gods, the couple’s hands must be joined by a married woman, who will represent the goddess Juno,’ declared the priest. This was Atia’s moment. She glided forward to stand before Aurelia and Lucius, who turned to face each other. Taking both of their right hands, Atia brought them together. Aurelia steeled herself as Lucius’ fingers gripped hers; she glared at her mother through her flammeum. I’m doing this for you and Father, she shouted silently. If she saw, Atia gave no sign. Wordlessly, she withdrew.
The remainder of the ceremony passed by as if in a dream. Aurelia walked forward to the temporary altar that had been set up by the household lararium; sat with Lucius on a pair of stools that had been covered with one sheepskin; watched as the priest made an old-fashioned offering of spelt cake at the altar. She paced around the dais, holding hands with Lucius, and repeated the blessing spoken by the priest; heard the applause as they were declared married; listened, numb, as, one by one, the guests offered their congratulations. She barely touched a morsel at the feast afterwards; she had no appetite. Only when Lucius encouraged her did she try some of the suckling pig, and the baked fish that had been especially shipped in from the coast.
‘It’s delicious, eh?’
They were almost the first words Lucius had said to her. To be fair, there had been no chance to talk, but that had suited her. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘Have some more.’ He skewered a large piece of pork with his knife and deposited it on her plate.
‘Thank you.’ Aurelia felt boorish that she didn’t have more to say to him, but nothing sprang to mind. And the lump of greasy meat made her stomach turn. She was grateful when Lucius’ father, on a nearby couch, called his name and drew him into conversation. Toying with her food, she tried not to think of the night to come. No matter how hard she tried, however, her thoughts kept returning to what would happen, inevitably, after they had made the short journey to Lucius’ family’s house and retired to the bridal bed. Her mother’s lecture, delivered the previous day, returned to haunt her. Aurelia hadn’t been at all prepared for the graphic nature of it, particularly coming from her mother. During her childhood, she’d seen enough farm animals mating to know how the physical aspects of intercourse worked, but the concept of having to lie there while Lucius did the same to her was revolting and horrifying. ‘Won’t it hurt?’ she’d asked. Atia’s face had softened; she had patted Aurelia’s hand. ‘At first, a little, maybe. Lucius is not like many men, though. He will be gentle with you, I am sure of it.’
She shot a quick glance at her husband. The wine he’d drunk lent a warm flush to his cheeks. Alcohol made some men more aggressive, but there was no sign of that with Lucius. If anything, he seemed more jovial than ever.
‘In time, you may even come to enjoy it,’ Atia had gone on. The memory made Aurelia blush for the second time – simultaneously angry and embarrassed. As if that were possible! She would hate every moment of it, would endure it because that was her duty. There would be no pleasure involved; with luck, it would not take long. Despite the pork she’d just tried, there was a new, bitter taste in her mouth. It was easy for her mother to talk in this manner: she had been blessed in marriage, for she had wed Aurelia’s father not by formal arrangement, but in a love match that had been disapproved of by both their families. Maybe I should have run off with Hanno, Aurelia reflected, left my old life behind to make a new one with him. The fantasy lasted no more than a few heartbeats. Her conscience would not be silent. And leave Phanes to beggar your parents? it asked. A knot of emotion closed her throat. She could not have lived with herself if that had happened. It was partly her fault anyway. If she hadn’t been discovered eavesdropping that day, her mother might have kept up with the payments to the unscrupulous moneylender. Stop it, she thought. The whole argument is futile. If Lucius hadn’t come along, another suitable husband would have been found. It was so unfair!
There was one consolation, if it could be called that. According to her mother, if she became pregnant, Lucius would not try to have sexual relations with her. Nor would he while she was breastfeeding a baby. ‘As you’re unhappy about this match, it’s all the more reason to get with child. Once you have provided him with at least one son, but preferably two or even three, he will leave you alone, should that be your wish.’ Aurelia could scarcely imagine giving birth once, let alone multiple times. It was not something that she’d dreamed about, as she knew other girls did. If given the choice, riding horses and training with a sword – both activities prohibited to women – were preferable to her than the drudgery of rearing children. But it would be best to forget that Quintus had ever taught her to do either. She would never do them again. Nor would she roam through the woods with him and Hanno.
‘Once you have had three children, no one could complain if you discreetly took a lover. But not before then,’ Atia had warned. Hanno might have been a lover, thought Aurelia with regret, if only he weren’t one of the enemy. According to everyone, the Carthaginians – she refused to call them guggas – were absolute savages. Aurelia only knew Hanno, and he certainly wasn’t like that. Nor had Suni been. She doubted their families were either. Quintus was about the only person who might understand her feelings for Hanno – to all intents and purposes, he and Hanno had been friends – but she doubted if even her brother could bring himself to approve. For the rest of her days, it would have to remain her dark secret.
Aurelia realised with a start that Lucius’ father had been speaking for some time. He expressed regret that her father and brother could not be present, offered his respects to Atia and Martialis, who was standing in for Fabricius, and gave thanks to the gods for the auspicious omens pronounced by the priests that day. Aurelia’s mouth went dry as he turned with a wink to Lucius. ‘And so the highlight of the ceremony is nearly upon us.’
‘Stand up.’ Atia was right by her. Aurelia did as she was told. Her mother had explained what would happen, but her heart still began to race once more. Atia’s embrace had never been more welcome as Lucius stood up and said in a loud voice, ‘I am here to claim my wife.’
There was an immediate, loud chorus of cheers, catcalls and sexual innuendoes from the other guests.
‘You will not take her,’ declared Atia.
Aurelia wished with all her heart that that were true, but it was all part of the ritual.
Lucius rose from the couch and took hold of Aurelia’s hand. ‘She is my wife, and I claim her.’
The hooting and crude references to the night’s activities grew even louder. Lucius began to pull Aurelia away. The reality of her situation sank in fully and she clung to her mother with her free hand like a child who didn’t want to go to its lessons. Lucius looked puzzled, and then annoyed. He tugged harder, but Aurelia resisted.
‘Let go!’ hissed Atia in her ear. ‘You will disgrace yourself and our family.’
Aurelia’s resistance crumbled and she allowed Lucius to drag her away. Her mother wailed theatrically at the ‘parting’, and the guests, who hadn’t noticed a thing, roared with approval. She let him lead her through the atrium to the front door, where slaves waited with burning torches to accompany them outside. There, two small boys were waiting. The first darted to her side and took her left hand. As tradition dictated, he was the son of two living parents, Lucius’ sister and her husband. The second child held a torch and a hawthorn branch; he would walk before them on the road to Lucius’ house, which lay about a mile away. The couple waited as the guests spilled out into the night air around them. A pair of musicians with flutes appeared and began to play rousing tunes. Aurelia tried to ignore the barrage of lewd jokes and songs, but it was impossible. They continued to be shouted and sung as the procession set off. She might not have cared if she’d drunk some wine, but custom dictated that women should not drink much, if at all.
‘You look beautiful.’
Lucius’ voice startled her, even more so because he had paid her the compliment. Typically, he did not d
o so, at least in public. ‘T-thank you.’
The cacophony made it easy to journey the rest of the way in silence.
At Lucius’ house, Aurelia anointed the doorposts with oil and animal fat, and tied woollen threads to each side of them. Lucius carried her over the threshold to much applause and they walked to the atrium. The guests followed in a loud, drunken gaggle. There he gave her the formal gifts of a beaker of water and a burning lamp, which welcomed her into his home. Using the torch borne by the boy who’d led the procession, they together lit the twigs which lay ready in the fireplace, symbolising their new life together. Without further ado, they continued to the bridal chamber, one of the bedrooms, which sat off the courtyard and had been specially prepared for this occasion. A large bed dominated the room, numerous lights hung from an ornate bronze stand. In a corner sat an ugly statue of the ancient fertility god, Mutunus Tutunus, with his massive phallus. More suggestive comments filled the air. Lucius’ lips twitched, but Aurelia eyed it with dread, grateful that the old practice of new brides having to lower themselves on to the stone member had long since been discontinued. She allowed her mother to divest her of the flammeum and her shoes, flushed red at her ceremonial advice and watched with relief as Atia and the other guests withdrew. Lucius closed the door behind them.
Of course the moment that they were alone, her mental anguish grew even greater. Aurelia didn’t know which way to look – at the bed, the statue of the priapic god, or Lucius. She shuffled her bare feet and gazed at the floor, too scared even to move. When Lucius touched her arm, she jumped. Unwillingly, she lifted her eyes to his. His expression was gentle, which almost made her disquiet worse.
‘Sit on the bed,’ he said in a kind voice.
She obeyed. He stooped to untie the knot beneath her breasts. Aurelia watched as if she were someone else. His hands went to the hem of her tunic, and she blurted, ‘Shouldn’t I pray first?’ Atia had drilled into her how things had to proceed.
He stood back and smiled. ‘If you wish. I for one have had a bellyful of prayers for today.’
Partly to conceal her shock, partly to delay the inevitable, she closed her eyes and asked Juno, the guardian of maidens, and Cincia, the goddess to whom the loosening of the knot was consecrated, for their blessings and their help in the hours to come. All too soon, she had finished. Lucius gave her an enquiring look, and Aurelia found herself nodding. She was too weary to fight.
Rather than undressing her, he surprised Aurelia by next taking off his toga. He was attractive, she had to admit. His muscles were as sculpted as those of an athlete and he had a belly like a race hound. Clad in just his licium, he approached again. ‘You have the advantage on me now,’ he said softly. ‘Stand up.’
‘Yes, husband.’ She tried not to tremble as he lifted the hem of her tunic up and over her head. It fell to the floor unnoticed as he slipped down her undergarment. Aurelia was mortified. She had not been naked in front of a man since well before her monthly bleeds had started. With an effort, she did not cover herself. His eyes drank in her body, and she did her best not to recoil when he reached out and touched a breast. Under his licium, she could see him swelling.
‘Get into bed,’ he said.
Relief for a moment as she escaped his touch. Sliding under the covers, she watched him extinguish the lights one by one. Blackness coated the room when he’d finished, but there was no comfort in it – as there might have been if she had been alone. Aurelia heard him move to the other side of the bed and undress. Her anxiety reached new levels. If the build-up to the ceremony and the event itself had been hard to take, this was torture. As he got in, she slid herself to the furthest edge of the bed and turned her back to him. When he reached out and touched her shoulder, she flinched.
His hand stayed where it was. ‘We’re married now.’
‘I know,’ she said miserably.
‘Wife, I know that you married me only because of your parents’ insistence.’
Guilt flayed at her. He deserves better than me, she thought. ‘I—’ she began.
‘Don’t lie.’ For the first time, his voice was harsh.
A long-drawn-out pause. Feeling even worse that he had seen through her, Aurelia tried to think of something to say. ‘You are a good man, Lucius,’ she whispered eventually.
‘And you are a kind and beautiful young woman. I hope that you can learn to be happy. Marriage is about begetting children and running a household, but it doesn’t have to be entirely miserable. Or so my father says.’
What would he know? Aurelia thought furiously. Yet when he moved closer, sliding his naked body against hers, she did nothing. His chest was warm and soft, in stark contrast to his stiffness, which pushed against her buttocks. It was all she could do not to jump up from the bed, screaming. She didn’t move. This was the final part of the test. It had to be endured, for her family’s sake. As Lucius fumbled down below, she thought of Hanno, which helped a little. The first thrust inside her was shocking, however. It hurt, because she was dry, but Aurelia didn’t say a word. She bit her lip instead. Lucius moved to and fro, easing himself deeper, letting out small sounds of pleasure. Aurelia’s pain grew a little worse, but it was bearable. The feeling of him inside her was far harder to accept. Be brave, she thought. Quintus has to risk his life in battle, has to slide his spear into other men’s flesh. I only have to do this.
Lucius reached around to squeeze her breast, shoved harder a few times and let out a strangled cry. His body juddered and relaxed; he pulled away from her. She felt his stiffness diminishing, and then it was out of her. At once she felt a sticky sensation between her thighs. It would be his seed and her blood, mixed. Aurelia felt a long, slow breath escape her chest. Was it relief, or satisfaction that the act had been done? She wasn’t sure. Lucius moved away from her without a word and she brought her knees up to her chest, as a baby would. A bath would have felt like heaven, but she knew that was out of the question on this of all nights. Silence cloaked the two of them, their bed, the room, like a heavy weight. At least the gods have been appeased, Aurelia thought. The marriage had been consummated.
It was as if that was enough for Lucius, whose only further words to her were a sleepy, ‘Good night, wife.’ Soon he was snoring.
The same was not true of Aurelia. She lay wide awake, staring into the blackness. Let his seed have taken hold, she prayed. Although she had no desire to have a child, pregnancy would protect her from more of what had just taken place – at least until that child had been weaned. If that didn’t happen, she would have to submit to Lucius as often as he wished. Never had Aurelia felt so helpless. A sob escaped her. She managed to swallow the next but then another one came, and another. It was too much for her. The tears that had been threatening all day began to flow at last. They poured out of her in a great tide of sorrow, soaking her pillow and the sheet below. She did her best to cry quietly, but after a while she no longer cared if Lucius heard. Maybe it would make him sorry that he’d touched her. If he saw how upset she was, maybe he wouldn’t touch her again. Aurelia even rolled over to lie beside her husband, to see if her weeping would wake him. All he did, however, was to roll over and snort as he settled in a new position.
At this, Aurelia’s desolation knew no bounds. Hanno, she thought. Hanno.
Many hours passed before sleep overtook her.
Chapter XI
Apulia, a month later . . .
‘STOP LOOKING AT me like that,’ ordered Hanno irritably.
‘Like what, sir?’ Mutt made a pretence of a happy expression.
Hanno waited for the inevitable. A moment later, like a fat man’s wine belly that has been sucked in, Mutt’s face sagged back down into its normal doleful position. ‘Like that,’ Hanno said, pointing. ‘You’re not happy that I’m going, but you’re not going to stop me.’
‘I can’t stop you, sir,’ replied Mutt mournfully. ‘You’re my commanding officer.’
‘But you won’t tell anyone about this when we return fr
om patrol?’
‘Of course not, sir. The men won’t say a thing either, you have my word on it.’ Mutt’s lips pursed, but then relaxed.
‘You will keep quiet, but you don’t approve,’ said Hanno, perplexed.
‘That’s right, sir. Women have their place, and it’s not in the middle of a war.’
Hanno glowered. He’d felt obliged to tell Mutt his reasons for leaving. It was impossible to argue; his second-in-command was right. What he was planning was reckless, even bordered on lunacy. Yet his mind was made up. Like many other units, his phalanx had been sent on patrol by Hannibal, their mission to protect the Carthaginian foraging parties that scoured the land for supplies. Fabius had continued his tactic of attacking these groups, often with considerable success, meaning that their job had become even more important. Abandoning his men for what would probably be several days would not be regarded favourably by Hannibal, or any other senior officer for that matter. Hanno could all too vividly remember the disciplining he had received from his general after disobeying orders once before. ‘Good. Because if Hannibal finds out about this, he will crucify me.’ It was weird, he thought. Even that knowledge couldn’t deter him from making another attempt to see Aurelia before she was wed. Since the night at the farm, he had hardly been able to sleep for thinking of her. If he could kill Agesandros on the same journey, all the better.
‘That’s the main reason I will say nothing, sir. Plus, I owe you.’
‘I’m grateful.’
A snort of amusement. ‘It’s not just that you saved my life near Victumulae, sir. You’re a valuable commodity. There are so few other officers around. If you die, there will be no time to train another one. This war is hotting up, and when the next big battle comes, I don’t want to die because the unit doesn’t have a commander.’