The Pillars of Rome

EPILOGUE

Claudia sat alone, as all over the house they prepared to commemorate, with prayers, the life of Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus. Senators were arriving and crowds had gathered in the street to mourn with the family. She knew once it was over she would have to decide what to do, and although not resolved, she had a fair idea of the course she should take. First, find the spot where her child had been exposed, then if there were bones, a proper, albeit secret burial, if not a priestly ceremony and a sacrifice to ease the passage of the child’s soul.

If that talisman was still there she could consider a return to Spain. If not, she must track it down, working out a way to effect that without bringing disgrace on the Cornelii name. But let that wait; now it was time to see to the funeral rites of her husband, and to pray to the gods that he would have more peace and happiness in Hades, than he ever enjoyed here on Earth.

The golden haired boy, now near a youth, with the dog Minca at his side, stood by the side of the Via Appia, the road that ran north to Rome and south to Sicily. He, despite his inclinations, could not travel in either direction. Having given what money Fulmina had bequeathed him to the guard, he was stuck here until something happened. Perhaps, with the news of victory in Illyricum, Clodius would come home, after all; yet the boy was not sure if he could face him. One thing he knew, that he would take food from Dabo, but never work in his fields.

Aquila turned and walked away, past the burnt outline that was all that remained of the hut in which he had grown up. He continued on down the stream to stand, after a lengthy walk, at the spot where, according to Fulmina, he had been found. He stood there for an age, trying to conjure up an image of the woman who had borne him and the people who had abandoned him, a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes. Inadvertently, his hand touched the leather amulet, his fingers tracing the outline of the eagle’s wings, wondering if what Fulmina had said was true; that his destiny lay with what was stitched inside.

Taking it off his arm, he looked at it intently, seeing the hooked beak and the wide wings of the eagle in flight. He would keep his vow to the woman who made it, and only open it when he feared no man; that was not now, but it would be soon. And then he would leave this place, to go where he did not know, and perhaps he would find the destiny that his adopted mother had seen in her dreams.