Fields of Blood

Chapter XVI

North of Capua, two months later. .

‘I’m not sure that this is a good idea.’ Lucius’ voice came from outside the litter.

Aurelia’s stomach twisted, but all he saw was her widest smile as she lifted the drapes. ‘You promised me!’

‘In a moment of weakness. It’s midsummer now; you yourself complain about how hot it is in the middle of the day.’

‘That’s why we’re setting out now, before dawn,’ she replied sweetly. ‘We’ll reach Capua not long after midday. I can take a rest the instant we arrive.’

‘A city is the last kind of place for a woman in your state to visit,’ he grumbled. ‘Open drains. Disease. Rats. Bad vapours.’

‘I’ll keep away from all of those. I’m not an invalid! I’m well able to walk around, you know that. There’s so much I need to buy before the baby comes.’

‘A slave could do it.’

‘They’d forget half of it, or purchase the wrong thing. It’s far easier for me to do it. And don’t forget my mother. She will have come to Capua to see me, probably for the last time before the baby is born.’

‘I don’t know. Maybe you should stay behind. Your mother can always travel here. What if your labour starts early?’

‘That won’t happen,’ Aurelia said with a confidence she didn’t totally feel. ‘Even if it did, Capua is full of surgeons and midwives, each of whom will be as experienced as the woman who lives nearby. What better place could there be to give birth?’

‘It’s asking for trouble to make light of it,’ he said irritably, shifting on his horse’s back. ‘Don’t you know how many babies and women die during childbirth?’

He can’t help himself, mentioning the child before me, thought Aurelia, fighting back bitterness. Since she had told him of her pregnancy, his attitude towards her had utterly changed. True, she no longer had to endure his advances — her mother had been right about that — but much of the time, it was as if Lucius now viewed her as nothing more than a vehicle to carry his son to term. To bring that up, however, would be pointless and might further endanger her chances of winning this argument. ‘Yes, husband. I meant no disrespect,’ she said meekly. ‘But I offered a lamb to Ceres yesterday. The soothsayer could find no reason in the entrails for me not to go to Capua.’

Defeated by the divine, Lucius gave a reluctant nod. ‘Very well. We had best leave now then. I want to be far down the road when the sun comes up.’

‘Of course, husband.’ Aurelia concealed her satisfaction until the drape had fallen back into place. Without doubt, this would be her last chance before the birth to enjoy the sights of Capua. A long period of time on Lucius’ family estate had given her an even greater appreciation of the city’s attractions. Its baths, theatres and good shops beckoned in her mind. There was the prospect of seeing her mother away from her new home; of calling on Martialis; there was a possibility, albeit remote, of seeing Gaius there. The list of things she wanted to do was endless. Once the baby was born, all chance of doing such things would vanish for many months. It was worrying how close the door of opportunity had come to closing. Aurelia gave thanks to Fides for making Lucius keep his word.

As the litter was lifted into the air by a quartet of Lucius’ strongest slaves, she settled back on to the soft cushions and made herself as comfortable as possible. Rising so early didn’t suit her in her current condition. She had grown used to dozing until midmorning. A nap now would help to prevent her feeling too fatigued later. Rocked by the swaying motion of the litter and the murmur of conversation between Lucius and Statilius, it wasn’t long before her eyelids began to droop. Phanes’ image briefly crossed her mind, but she was able to push it away. Lucius’ tactic had worked. Her mother’s most recent letter mentioned how the moneylender had unexpectedly reduced the amount demanded each month. Atia had no idea why, but things were much easier as a result. Content that all was well, Aurelia fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Apart from a brief stop to eat a little food, the party — Lucius, Aurelia, Elira, Statilius and a dozen other slaves — travelled without pause, reaching Capua not long after the sun had reached its zenith. The loud churring of the cicadas that had accompanied them all the way was finally drowned out as they passed beneath one of the six stone gateways that gave access to the city. Inside the walls, the air was still and hot. Here the sun could concentrate its attention on the narrow streets that were lined on either side by buildings several storeys high. The temperature in the litter, which had been increasing steadily, rose to unbearable levels. Aurelia was glad to reach Lucius’ city house, a spacious affair with a grand courtyard full of shade and pattering fountains. While he met with clients who wanted his patronage, she spent the rest of the afternoon reclining there, fanned by two slaves with palm branches and sipping cool juices brought to her by Elira.

In the early evening, Aurelia determined to go out. The dreadful heat had begun at last to abate, and she wanted to make a start on her shopping list, which, thanks to the advice of the local midwife, was quite extensive. Lucius was still busy. Apart from recommending she take a slave as protection and authorising Statilius to give her a purse of coin, he barely looked up from his desk when she stuck her head inside his office door. His lack of attention didn’t surprise her. It took something monumental to drag him from his estates’ accounts. Not that she minded. After his earlier outburst, she wanted to escape before he also reconsidered her outing.

Stepping from the cool of the house into the baking warmth of the street was like being slapped in the face. Despite the umbrella wielded by Elira, which shielded her from the unforgiving sun, instant beads of sweat prickled on Aurelia’s scalp, forehead and swollen belly. Her dress stuck to her back. The insides of her thighs rubbed together. Perhaps coming to the city had been rash? Dismissing the notion, she pictured the items on her list: a cradle, swaddling cloths, squares of linen to wash and dry the baby, scented oils to use when bathing. If she could find it, Aurelia had also resolved to buy some expensive perfume as a treat. After that, a visit had to be paid to the stall in the forum that sold spiced sausages. She had been craving them for months. The cook in Lucius’ house had tried to follow her instructions in recreating them, but his version wasn’t a patch on the real thing. Perhaps the stallholder would part with his recipe if she slipped him a few coins. That happy thought helped carry her from Lucius’ house down the quiet residential street to the main avenue that led to the forum.

A strapping farm slave armed with a short cudgel dogged their footsteps. Aurelia soon noticed that more often than not his gaze was directed at Elira’s shapely rear; a sharp reprimand redirected his attentions to their surroundings. With the threat of Phanes removed, there was little risk in being abroad at this hour, she thought, but that didn’t mean there weren’t cutpurses about. The purse Statilius had given her weighed heavily around her neck. A shawl might have covered it from prying eyes, but there was no way Aurelia could have borne the extra layer of clothing. As it was, she was already dreaming about peeling off her wool dress when they got back.

Although the crowds frequenting the streets and the forum added to the heat and the feeling of claustrophobia, the expedition began well. Aurelia spent time in a cloth merchant’s shop, admiring the wide variety and colours of fabrics on offer. She handled a piece of silk for the first time and was amazed by its gossamer appearance and the way it slipped through her fingers. The price was no less stunning: a hundred didrachms for a short length that would serve only as a lady’s scarf. ‘You’ve got to understand, mistress,’ the sweating shopkeeper explained, ‘it’s come thousands of miles just to get here. Far to the east of Greece and Asia Minor. Past Judaea and Syria. Months of journeying beyond Persia, even. It comes from the land of the Seres, a yellow-skinned people with black hair and slanted eyes.’ Aurelia had laughed, disbelieving, and settled instead for a score of linen squares and two sets of swaddling cloths.

Drawn by the alluring smells, she next ventured into a perfumer’s. The proprietor, a Judaean with twinkling eyes, insisted on giving her a tour of his premises. Aurelia’s curiosity got the better of her. There were benefits to being a Roman matron, she thought. Some doors that had previously been closed to her now opened with ease. The Judaean seemed trustworthy, and she had little compunction about leaving the male slave outside. Elira came with her. As Aurelia’s eyes grew used to the dim light, she gazed with fascination at the benches lined with little glass flasks and vials, the mixing bowls and the copper alembics in which the perfumes were prepared. A dizzying mix of smells assailed her nostrils, among them coriander and myrtle. Urged by the Judaean, she dabbed essence of almonds and lilies on her wrists and neck. Countless others were offered to try. After a while, she lost count. ‘I love them,’ she said, refusing yet another bottle, ‘but there are too many to choose from.’

‘You must have a favourite, mistress.’ The Judaean smiled, all brown teeth and reddened gums. ‘The rosewater, maybe? Or the lily? Choose one. I’ll give you the best price in Capua, and because you’re so beautiful, you can have a second vial at half price.’

Aurelia laughed. The shopkeeper was a rogue, of that there was no doubt, but he was charming and friendly. She wanted to give him custom. ‘It has to be the lilies.’

‘I knew it!’ He clapped his hands, and one of the slaves working at the benches padded to his side. ‘Prepare two bottles of essence of lilies from the latest batch. Quickly!’ As the slave hurried off, he bowed to Aurelia. ‘Would the lady like a cup of wine? I have a fine vintage from Sicily, and another from our own Campania.’

Aurelia mock-frowned at him. ‘You haven’t mentioned the price yet.’

‘It will be a fair one, I swear to you, on my father’s honour.’

‘So what is it?’ she asked, growing a little suspicious.

A greasy smile. ‘Ten didrachms for the first bottle, five for the second.’

Even without Elira’s gasp, Aurelia knew the demand was exorbitant. ‘A fair price, you say? Ha!’ She turned, as if to go.

‘My lady, wait! We can negotiate.’

‘Your perfumes are incredible,’ she said, ignoring his pleased nod, ‘but I couldn’t pay any more than one didrachm for a bottle of the lily.’

The Judaean wrung his hands together. ‘That would not even cover my costs. Do you know how many flowers have to be used to make just one vial? More than two hundred! Then there’s the labour that goes into its preparation.’

‘All work that is done by your slaves,’ said Aurelia tartly. ‘Whom you don’t pay.’

He was unabashed. ‘The flowers have to be bought; the running costs of my workshop are high indeed. I couldn’t take less than eight didrachms for the first bottle. Twelve for the two.’

Aurelia walked away without a word. She’d gone no more than three steps before the Judaean spoke again. ‘Ten didrachms!’

She kept walking. ‘I’ll give you three.’

‘Mistress, you are trying to ruin me!’ he wailed.

She stopped.

‘Eight,’ he ventured.

At last she turned to look at him. ‘Five.’

‘Let us split the difference, as friends would. Six and a half didrachms.’

‘Six,’ declared Aurelia, knowing she had him.

He let out a long sigh. ‘Very well, mistress. I, a poor ignorant trader, give you this price because of your outstanding beauty and charm.’

Despite herself, she smiled. ‘Here.’ The coins were gone from her hand in the blink of an eye. More bowing and scraping from the Judaean. The perfume arrived a moment later; Aurelia gestured Elira to take the long-necked vials.

‘Some wine?’ he asked again.

‘Thank you, but no,’ replied Aurelia, suddenly overcome by the intense heat radiating from the workshop’s low tile roof. The Judaean didn’t protest, which pleased her. She must have fought him down to a good price.

‘Please come back when the baby is born, and try some more of my products,’ he urged. ‘I have scents to drive a husband wild with desire.’

‘I will.’ Aurelia made her way towards the front of the shop. Intent on getting out into the fresh air, she didn’t see the masked figure slip out from behind a set of shelves. The first thing she knew was the prick of a knife at the base of her spine. Her right arm was wrenched up behind her back. A low voice growled in her ear, ‘Over here, bitch.’ She felt herself being propelled over to the far wall. Elira cried out, and the Judaean spluttered in dismay. ‘Nobody move, or I’ll cut the whore’s throat,’ barked the man.

‘Who are you? What do you want?’ She fumbled for her purse with her free hand. ‘Take this.’ It was snatched from her grasp. Relief turned to terror a heartbeat later, however, when Aurelia felt the back of her dress being lifted up. She opened her mouth to scream, but a sharp poke from the knife reduced her cry to a whimper.

‘Unless you’d like me to gut you as well, stay fucking still.’

‘I’m pregnant.’ Aurelia began to cry. She tried to turn around and look at her attacker, but was stopped by a slap to her face. ‘Please, don’t do this. I’ll lose my baby.’

A cruel laugh. ‘That’s none of my concern. Next time, you might think twice before having an honest businessman threatened.’

Aurelia’s distress was so great that his words didn’t register. Nausea washed over her as he released her arm to rip at her undergarment. Feeling faint, she reached out to hold on to the bench in front of her. Great Ceres, she prayed, do not let my baby come to any harm. Please.

There was a grunt of satisfaction as he succeeded in baring her rear; a pause as he tugged at his own clothing. ‘I’m going to enjoy this.’

This was her only chance, thought Aurelia. Her eyes fixed on a large glass bottle full of liquid. If she could just grab that, wheel and smash it on his head, she might escape. Little by little, she eased her fingers over the work surface. There was no reaction from behind her, just the hideous feeling of something stiff pushing against the tops of her thighs. Terrorised, Aurelia lost all control and lunged for the bottle. A muttered curse; a blinding pain in her lower back. In slow motion, the vessel slid over the edge and fell to the floor, where it shattered into a thousand fragments. A warm liquid ran down on to Aurelia’s buttocks. She knew it for blood. Waves of agony rippled out from where the blade had opened her flesh. Why hadn’t he stabbed her? she wondered dazedly.

He cuffed her heavily across the back of her head; only her outstretched hands prevented her face smashing off the bench. ‘Try another trick like that, bitch, and it will be your last.’ His erection probed forward again, searching for a way into her.

Her eyes hunted for another object to fight with. Nothing lay within reach. She lifted her legs one by one, tried to twist away from him, but he just slapped her buttocks and laughed. ‘I love it when a woman fights back!’

Her despair mushroomed. Aurelia could feel her ability to resist ebbing away with the blood running down her legs. Let him do it, she thought wearily. If coupling with Lucius doesn’t harm the baby, this won’t either. It’s better to survive. Better that my child lives rather than dies.

The sound of rushing feet in her ears made no sense. It was followed a heartbeat later by a loud cracking sound and a cry of pain. Aurelia was still struggling to understand what had happened when a hand grabbed hers. ‘Come on, mistress! Run!’

Aurelia lurched upright, took in her attacker reeling backwards, clutching his head. An alembic rolled in circles at his feet, the large dent in its surface evidence of what Elira had done. Panic flared in her belly — he was still conscious and still armed. When Elira tugged at her arm again, Aurelia ran for the door after her slave. A roar of anger gave her extra speed, but it was too little, too late. There was no way that she could outrun a big man in her state.

That was until the Judaean, who had appeared from nowhere, emptied a flagon of scented oil over the floor between them. There was a strangled cry and a thump as the man’s feet went from under him. Aurelia dared to hope for the first time. Few people would help but outside they could blend into the crowd while her slave slowed down or stopped the attacker.

‘I’m coming for you, you whore!’

Near the shop’s entrance, she risked a glance behind her. To her horror, her attacker had scrambled to his feet. The Judaean approached him, but retreated before the savage thrusts of the man’s blade. ‘Out of my way, greybeard, or you’ll be picking up your own guts!’

‘Mistress!’ Elira was beckoning urgently.

Aurelia urged her tired legs onwards and burst out into the golden light of the setting sun. Lucius’ slave regarded her with open mouth. She must look a sight, thought Aurelia, with blood all down her back, but there was no time to consider that. ‘I was attacked inside. Stop the man who’s chasing us. He’s masked. He has a knife!’

‘Y-yes, mistress.’ Looking scared, he raised his cudgel.

She shoved past without another word. Whether he survived or not was none of her concern. What mattered was that she got away. The street was busier than ever. Women, men, children, carts pulled by oxen, mules laden down with merchandise. Residents of the city, visitors, slaves and merchants: they were all out at this, the best time of day to do business. The press, the reek of unwashed humanity made Aurelia begin to panic. ‘Which way is Lucius’ house?’ she hissed at Elira.

The Illyrian’s hand stabbed to their left. Aurelia’s heart sank. A large wagon was nearing them from that direction. It was loaded so heavily that there was almost no room to pass on either side. Under normal circumstances she could have squeezed through, but not now. If they went the other way, however, they risked getting lost. The pounding of feet close behind made her mind up. It was go right, or die. ‘The other way!’ She pushed Elira forward. ‘Quickly!’

They shoved into the crowd, ignoring the protests and cries of indignation that met their entry. It was hard to follow Elira, but Aurelia did her best. She dodged under the outstretched arm of a beggar who was harassing a portly, well-dressed man; she muttered an apology as she edged past a woman who was berating a small child for not holding her hand. Her feet dragged with every step and her belly felt as if it had doubled in size. The pain from her back was excruciating, but she pressed on regardless. Perhaps twenty paces into the mass of slowly moving people, she risked a look over her shoulder. At first, she thought they had escaped. There was no sign of her attacker. Maybe the slave had restrained him? Another scan changed her mind. Not far behind, a hooded man was wading through the throng; his elbows moved right and left like clubs, clearing the path before him. One of his victims, a merchant, began to protest. A heartbeat later, he had collapsed out of sight, levelled by a punch to his considerable paunch.

‘Oh gods,’ whispered Aurelia, fighting exhaustion and resignation. All at once, the exertions of the day, the heat, her gravid condition were overwhelming her. She wouldn’t be able to go much further. Why had she been so foolish? She should have taken Lucius’ advice and stayed at home.

She wasn’t expecting the crowd to part. When it did so quite suddenly, Aurelia stumbled and almost fell. A few steps ahead of her, Elira had just collided with a strapping man whom she did not recognise. Even as the Illyrian was being cursed for being a stupid slave, Aurelia took in the toga-clad figure behind the man. Grey-haired, distinguished-looking, he had to be one of the magistrates who ruled Capua. His companion, whose presence had been clearing the way, was his bodyguard. She rushed forward. ‘Your pardon, good sir.’ She clutched at the guard’s hand, gave his master a beseeching look. ‘Help us, please!’

The big man’s brows lowered in suspicion, but before he could say a word, the magistrate spoke. ‘Stand back. By her dress, she is clearly of good standing. Can’t you see she’s hurt?’

‘I’m all right,’ replied Aurelia stoically.

‘What has happened, my lady?’ asked the magistrate, his tone concerned.

‘I was attacked in a perfume shop down the street. My assailant is still after us.’

‘This is an outrage. Lay your hand to your sword, Marcus.’

Tears of relief sprang to Aurelia’s eyes as the bodyguard stepped forward. ‘What does he look like?’

‘You’ll see him any moment. He was just behind us. I didn’t see his face, but he’s big, and wearing a hooded cloak.’

Marcus grunted; his sword snickered from its scabbard.

Aurelia’s gaze followed his, left to right, right to left at the semicircle of people regarding them. There were men and women, young and old, tall, thin, short and fat. They had skin as white as alabaster, black as charcoal and every shade of brown under the sun. She could see no mask or raised hood, however, no familiar bulky figure.

They waited. And waited. There was no sign of her attacker. No one dared to push past the magistrate from either direction, but eventually people began complaining. Aurelia began to grow self-conscious. She was almost grateful for the wound on her back: proof that she was no madwoman. ‘He must have seen you,’ she said lamely.

‘Most likely,’ agreed the magistrate. ‘Hannibal himself would think twice before tackling Marcus here. Best forget him. You need urgent attention from a surgeon.’

‘I want to find him,’ protested Aurelia, although she knew that the magistrate was right. There was no chance of finding the man who had nearly raped her. He would be long gone.

‘Your slave can help Marcus to search for him,’ said the magistrate kindly. ‘You, on the other hand, are returning with me to your house. But first, a message to the surgeon, with all possible speed. Who is your husband? We should also send word to him.’

‘His name is Lucius Vibius Melito,’ said Aurelia. Her vision blurred for a moment. She could feel herself swaying.

‘Melito?’ His voice was at her elbow, his grip supporting her, for which she was very grateful. ‘Why didn’t you say before? I know him and his father well. No need to tell me where his house is. Come.’

Aurelia’s legs would not obey her any longer. As her knees buckled and she crumpled to the ground, she was dimly aware of raised voices around her. It was the last thing she remembered.

She was woken by the baby kicking in her belly. Aurelia’s eyes opened, adjusting slowly to the dim light. She was in a bed, lying on her side, facing the wall. Relief bathed her as she recognised the decorated plaster. It was the main bedroom of Lucius’ house in Capua. Her back ached, but not as badly as she would have expected. Nor were there any signs that she was in labour, another cause for relief. With difficulty, she rolled over on to her back. Pain stabbed through her, and Aurelia moved on to her other side as swiftly as she could. To her surprise, Lucius was sitting right beside her on a stool. His face twisted with emotion — anger, relief, sadness — she wasn’t sure. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Sore.’ Maybe she had been hasty in deciding that her wound was minor. ‘My back. Is it-?’

‘The surgeon attended to it. A long cut, but not deep. He’s stitched it up. It will heal in two to three weeks, he says.’

Aurelia’s head felt heavy as she nodded. ‘How can I be so tired? I’ve only just woken up.’

‘You lost quite a lot of blood,’ chided Lucius. ‘Fortunately it was Calavius, the chief magistrate himself, who came to your aid. Thanks to him, the surgeon arrived soon after you did.’

It took a moment for that to register. ‘I see.’

‘It’s a wonder that the baby didn’t come early.’

She touched her stomach, reassuring herself. ‘How long have I been asleep?’

‘A day and a night.’

‘Gods above,’ she muttered.

‘What were you thinking to go out as you did?’ he asked, his anger spilling forth again.

‘You did not protest when I told you I was going.’

He didn’t acknowledge her words. ‘You should have taken more slaves with you.’

Why is he being like this? she wondered. ‘That would not have stopped what happened. I went into the shop alone apart from Elira, as I always would. The man followed me inside. Did Elira not tell you?’

‘What if you had lost the baby?’ His voice was accusing.

Ah, that’s why he is so upset, she thought bitterly. The child is more important than I am. ‘I didn’t.’

‘But you could have.’

‘I didn’t,’ she repeated, angry now. ‘But if Elira hadn’t intervened, I would have been raped.’

That seemed to bring him to his senses. A heavy sigh. ‘Thank all the gods that that didn’t happen. What I can’t understand is why someone would pick you out like that.’

‘There are men like that everywhere. It was just my bad luck to catch his attention,’ said Aurelia with a shudder.

‘It wasn’t one of Phanes’ apes, was it?’

The name triggered something in Aurelia’s memory. ‘Maybe. He said something about thinking twice before having an honest businessman threatened.’ Lucius looked at her blankly, so she told him about the attack on Phanes in the temple.

‘Who in Hades ordered that — your mother?’

‘No! She came to me, asking if I knew who it could have been.’ Don’t let him ask any more questions, she prayed. It was better if Lucius didn’t even know of Hanno’s existence.

To her relief, he let it go. He was silent for a time, tapping a finger off his lips in thought. ‘Phanes has to be the most likely culprit. I will have my men pay him a visit. It doesn’t do any harm to let sewer rats know their place from time to time.’

The way he said ‘visit’ made Aurelia smile. She could no longer control her drowsiness, however. Her eyes closed. All she wanted to do was sleep.

‘The surgeon says it would be best if you stayed here until your time arrives.’

She roused herself with an effort. ‘Why?’

‘He thinks that another journey in this heat might bring on your labour prematurely. Staying here will be more relaxing for you.’ Lucius seemed content with this notion.

Aurelia was also pleased. Although she was unused to the house, Capua was very familiar to her. ‘That’s fine,’ she murmured. ‘The baby will be born here.’ Her eyelids closed again. It might have been her imagination, but she fancied that she could feel Lucius stroking her hair as she slipped away into oblivion.

In the event, staying in Capua proved to be a blessing in disguise. Atia could visit much more easily than before; indeed once she knew Aurelia’s intentions, she moved into the house for the duration. Having her mother on hand proved a great comfort to Aurelia, for her nervousness about the birth was growing as it drew ever closer. Her anxiety wasn’t helped by her worries over her father and Quintus. Everyone was obsessed with the impending battle against Hannibal — no, the impending victory over him — that surely must come soon. Two weeks after the attack in the perfumer’s, the two new consuls passed Capua on their way south. Forty thousand troops, citizens and socii, marched and rode with them. The populace turned out in droves to witness the spectacle.

Aurelia’s wound had healed well enough for her to travel by litter with Lucius to the city ramparts, the best local vantage point. She would remember the sight to her dying day. The massively long column that extended from north to south as far as the eye could see. (By all accounts, it had been passing Capua since daybreak; men said that the tail wouldn’t go by until mid-afternoon.) The sound of thousands of studded sandals striking the ground in unison, which filled the air with an ominous thunder. The soldiers’ rhythmic chanting. Winding through the din, the blaring of trumpets. Sunlight flashing off the metal standards that marked out each legion, maniple and century. The trails of dust rising from the cavalry units, which were dwarfed by the orange-brown clouds that hung in the air over the entire host. Marching through the dirt sent up by the men in front must be horrific, she thought, especially in addition to the incredible heat and the mass of heavy armour and weapons that each man carried.

Aurelia had seen her father dressed in his uniform before; had wept as he rode away. She’d done the same when first Quintus, and then Gaius, had left. Yet seeing the army brought home the hideous reality of war in a way that truly unnerved her. Hannibal’s host was nowhere near as large as the Roman one would be when the consuls reached the other legions. But there was no avoiding the fact that when battle was joined, many thousands of men would die. More even than at the Trebia or at Trasimene. If that was the case, what chance had her father and brother of surviving? A dark gloom cast its shadow over her. Lucius’ excited comment about perhaps joining the army hadn’t helped. Aurelia hoped that her protestations had convinced him not to pursue the idea, that his father would disabuse him of the notion. For all that she didn’t love him, he was a decent man and her future lay with him. He must not go to war too.

She’d had enough of watching the martial display. ‘I want to go back to the house,’ she said, touching Lucius’ arm.

‘Soon.’ His eyes roamed eagerly over the column. ‘Look, there’s another legion standard. A minotaur, I think.’

Aurelia resolved to ask him again in a moment. After what had happened, she didn’t want to return to the house alone. She also wanted his arm to lean on when negotiating the steps to street level. By now, her stomach was so large that she waddled rather than walked. Physical activity of any kind was uncomfortable. How much longer will it be? she wondered, rubbing her belly. Her discomfort now outweighed her fear — just. It would do no harm to call in to the temple of Bona Dea on the way back, she decided. Her offerings to the goddess of fertility and childbirth had been frequent, but there was no harm in making another.

‘You’re hot.’ Lucius wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. ‘My pardon. You mustn’t stay out for long in these temperatures. Let’s return to the house.’

Aurelia gratefully took his arm. They walked the short distance to the staircase that they’d ascended. A sentry saluted; a friend of Lucius’ called out a greeting. The wife of another wished Aurelia well, and subjected her to a barrage of advice. Her smile of acknowledgement faltered as an intense pain radiated from her lower belly. It passed within a few heartbeats; the other woman did not notice. Muttering a goodbye, Aurelia walked a few more steps. Another wave hit her then, and she stopped dead, taking deep breaths to try and move through the agony.

‘Are you all right?’ asked Lucius.

‘It’s nothing. I’m fine.’ She tried to straighten, but another contraction — she recognised it as that this time — surged in and she gasped.

‘Is it the baby? Is the baby coming?’

‘Maybe,’ she admitted.

To his credit, Lucius remained very calm. His friend’s wife was called over and asked to wait with Aurelia. He hastened down the steps, returning with two of his slaves, who helped her down to the waiting litter. The midwife was sent for. He held her hand and whispered soothing words all the way back to the house. Surrendering her to the care of her mother and Elira, he went to offer prayers at the lararium.

Aurelia remembered only fragments of the hours that followed; it was terribly hot and humid in the bedroom, and the sheets beneath her were drenched in sweat, making the hard bed she lay on feel even harder. Bizarrely, the bladders filled with warm oil at her sides felt comforting. Atia sat close by, rubbing creams on her belly and talking to her. Between regular internal examinations on Aurelia, the midwife busied herself by praying and readying her supplies on a table: olive oil to use as a lubricant, sea sponges, strips of cloth and wool, tinctures of herbs and pots of ointment. As time passed, Aurelia’s contractions grew closer and closer together, exhausting her. She was aware of crying out with each wave of pain. At one stage, she heard an anxious Lucius at the door; he was banished by Atia.

At last the midwife’s examination revealed that Aurelia’s cervix was sufficiently dilated. She and Atia helped her to the birthing chair. This had armrests for her to grip on to; it supported her thighs and bottom, leaving a ‘U’ shaped gap between her legs, access for the midwife. Aurelia’s fear reached new heights as she eased on to it, but Atia’s encouragement and the urgent cries from the midwife, who was crouched on a stool before her, helped her to go on. To keep breathing; to push when she was told to.

In the end, the baby emerged with less difficulty than she’d imagined. It came in a rush. Mucus, blood and urine spattered on the floor. The midwife gave a happy cry; so too did Atia. Aurelia opened her eyes to see a purple-red bundle topped by a thatch of spiky black hair being lifted to her breast. ‘Is it alive?’ she gasped. ‘Is it healthy?’

A mewling cry answered, and her heart filled. ‘My baby,’ she whispered as the midwife placed him on her chest.

‘It’s a boy,’ said Atia. ‘Praise be to Bona Dea, Juno and Ceres!’

‘A boy,’ whispered Aurelia, filled with elation. She had done her job, in part at least. She kissed the top of his downy head. ‘Welcome, Publius. Your father is looking forward to meeting you.’

‘Well done, daughter,’ said Atia, her tone warmer and gentler than usual. ‘You’ve done a fine job.’

After a little while, the midwife tied off and cut the cord. With some help, Aurelia walked the few steps to the second, softer bed where she lay down to rest and to feed Publius. It was strange that she’d had doubts about being pregnant, she thought, gazing adoringly at her son. The discomfort of the previous few weeks and the pain of her labour were already dimming in her mind. It all seemed worthwhile now. Lucius in particular would be ecstatic. As long as Publius thrived, his family bloodline had been secured.

As sleep took her, Aurelia felt more content than she had done in an age.

She didn’t think about Hanno.