Diana did not sleep a wink the night Quintus and Didius called on her. Julia, exhausted by the day's events, began snoring the moment her little head hit the pillow. This should have allowed her mother to rest easier, but it did not. She paced the floors of their room for many hours, before it dawned on her, with amazing simplicity, what she must do.
Pulling a heavy wooden chest out
from under her bed, she began filling it with their belongings quickly, more
tears streaming down her face atop the dried salty residue of earlier that
evening. Not all of the things they had acquired would fit in, so carelessly
she began throwing old tunicas and other garments down onto the floor. There
was no time to waste. They would leave as soon as possible, once Didius had
paid his little 'inspection' visit.
* * *
Antoninus thought at length of Diana, as he did every minute of every day, laying out his merchandise at market the next day. When they talked, he had noticed that she was somewhat reserved in what she told him about her past, but it bothered him very little, as there were many things she didn't know about him either. Sharing so many secrets so soon made him uncomfortable; first he wished to wait until he had her heart, her promise to be his wife.
Born in the middle of the reign of
Marcus Aurelius, his ambitious father had named him after the Antonine dynasty
under whose rule the Empire had so far flourished. Nonetheless, his son had
never seen any need whatsoever for airs and pretences based on one's status. His
great-uncle had wished for him to take his place in the Senate upon his death,
yet Antoninus had absolutely no interest in politics. He made a more than
sufficient living in this more honest part of Rome, selling splendid handmade
pottery in old Greek designs. Some people called him an artist; he called
himself a tradesman.
His life was almost complete. He had
money, a good home in a modest villa nearby, good friends, and now Diana. When
they had first met, he had thought her somewhat clumsy, though thoughtful,
sweet-tempered and an unfailingly good mother. He saw her true beauty where
others saw plainness, and he had replaced her almost constantly brooding
expression with many a rare smile. Now he loved her – he was in no doubt
whatsoever that she had been placed on this earth to be his forever. He planned
to ask for her hand that evening.
* * *
"Yes, darling," she replied, her
voice trembling even more than her body. "But there's nothing to worry about.
You will stay silent if he speaks to you…though that is normally impolite,
there is no reason to be mannerly with these people. I won't let him touch you.
Do not move from my side while he's here."
Julia nodded knowingly. "I already
knew that I should do all that."
Three endless, excruciating hours
later, Diana all but cried out with shock and trepidation when several loud
knocks sounded on their door. Squeezing Julia's hand and ordering her again to
sit still and be quiet, she rose stiffly, breathing deeply. Quickly she
reminded herself that this was not Quintus, the man she despised more than
anyone in the world at this moment – it was merely his bumbling manservant.
She opened the door slowly,
revealing his nervous, smiling features. "Good day, Madam."
"Good day, Didius." She saw no
reason to show him any respect by addressing him as 'sir'.
He ignored the barbs in her voice
and manner. "May I come in?"
"Of course." The door creaked open,
her hand a vice-grip on the handle. Diana was determined to remain in complete
control of the whole repugnant affair.
Didius entered, his steps small and
nervous, hardly making a sound as he crossed the rug-covered floors of the
small apartment. Behind him, Diana swept up Julia's short, stout frame into her
arms and stroked the little girl's long hair to try and calm her. Why must
you be so intelligent? she asked her silently. Why must you sense every
little thing that happens, good or bad? I fear for you…and not simply because I
think I might lose you today.
At that moment, as mother and child both
burned invisible holes into his back with their fiery eyes, Didius swung
around, his own gaze full of dread and his voice crackly with nervousness. "I
feel I must say something to reassure you, Madam."
"What can you possibly say that will
reassure me? Your master wishes to take my daughter from me."
Didius frowned. "My master acts upon
his own selfish ambitions. Because he does not believe that your daughter is
actually your daughter – a sentiment that, I, for one, do not share – he does
not believe that you will grieve if separated from her. He has very little
compassion for anyone, Madam. Least of all for women and children. You must, must,
accept my apologies on his behalf."
Diana felt some of her composure
begin to fail. Her heart bled, momentarily, for this poor servant – before she
reminded herself not to trust him, under any circumstances. This was no time to
take foolish risks. Not where Lucilla's baby, nay her baby, was
concerned.
"And what if I accept your
apologies? Then am I supposed to hand Julia to your master without feeling, and
just accept the brutality of both our fates?" Gradually, her voice was raised
to shouting. "Do you have any idea what it is to raise a child? Any child that
you love, regardless of whether you gave birth to it or not?"
Tears began to fill the young
manservant's eyes. "No, I do not, Madam. But I am not blind to the predicament
you face. I knew the first time I heard of my master's plan that no woman,
least of all you – for I have heard of your goodness, Diana – would give up her
child so easily. I do not expect you to give up Julia now or ever."
The woman's shivering subsided, just a little. "Then what am I to
do?"
Didius's gaze fell from the
formidable, tormented figure before him to the little girl stood at her side.
He recalled his master's conviction that Julia's father was indeed the General
Maximus. The child clung to her mother's shabby skirts, staring back up at him
boldly, her eyes almost too large and to fiery for one so small and so young.
He tried to smile at Diana.
"I am going to do my duty and report
back to my master. He plans to visit you himself in three days' time; by then I
hope you will do the right thing for yourself and the child and leave this
place, and never look back. She is blameless and deserves a better life than
the one my master wishes for her." The servant's forehead creased with the
beginnings of rage. "He has no claim to her. No claim to anything…yet he wants
everything that is not his, and was never meant to be."
Diana almost did not hear that last
comment. Her memories of Quintus were as hazy as those of the General, or
Emperor Commodus, or her father. Had she blocked every man out of her
recollection entirely? "I had already planned to leave; very soon, in fact. If
we go, will your master punish you?"
Surprised that she should be
concerned, he took a moment before answering. "I doubt it, though I'm willing
to take the risk. He thinks I have no gumption, least of all to refuse to carry
out his wishes." Didius smiled, albeit bitterly. "He knows nothing of me,
really, the stupid man." He turned to leave, despite little Julia's attempts to
hold eye contact with him.
"Didius, wait," Diana said, suddenly
and inexplicably feeling totally drained. A sharp pain cut through her forehead
as she gazed down at Julia. "Does she look like the child of a Spaniard to
you?" The word 'Spaniard' was her only reminiscence of any description of
Maximus. She had only lain eyes on him as he had fought in the Colosseum – from
up in the Imperial box, where she had accompanied Lucilla, those few times that
her stomach had allowed it.
Julia's hand tightened loyally
around her own as Didius turned back to them both. Once forcing himself to
examine the child properly, all he saw was a miniature carbon copy of the late
Princess of Rome. As far as he could see, there was nothing of the legendary
general in her.
* * *
Antoninus
began to grow nervous as he left his villa for Diana's building, steeling
himself to ask her to be his wife. He had lost count of the number of times
they had liased in secret, the number of times he had rehearsed these moments
in his mind. Yet now he was still uneasy. Part of him, he could just about
admit to himself, was afraid she would reject him. Even as every look she gave
him, every chaste kiss and embrace, seemed to beg him to ask her.
The semi-darkness of early evening seemed suddenly
oppressive as he approached her building, expecting to see her waiting outside
for him. But the area was deserted. Before this could begin to worry him,
however, a new problem walked slowly towards him from down a nearby road.
A man, slightly younger than Antoninus, approached
him a little too confidently for his liking, a small, sardonic smile on his
face. His clothes were suspiciously grand looking, not quite seeming to fit
with his already impudent-seeming manner. Antoninus bowed his head in greeting,
hoping that the stranger would pass him by completely.
For a
moment, it looked as though he would. But no such luck. He strode closer to
Diana's building than where Antoninus stood, watching him intently, before
turning at smiling at the other man. "Good evening," he said, with mock
cheerfulness.
"Good evening," Antoninus replied flatly, turning
away dismissively.
"You are a friend of Diana, are you not?"
He turned towards the stranger, frowning
incredulously. "I don't believe that is any of your business, sir."
The man seemed unperturbed. His face grew serious as
he spoke, his tone full of bitterness. "She was my business once. When both of
us inhabited much higher stations than this." He turned and cast a jaded glance
over the empty, darkening square around them.
"Why should that concern me?" Anger, a
sentiment Antoninus was unaccustomed to, built in his voice as he listened in
amazement.
"Because," Mercifully, the stranger began to walk
away. "Now may not be the best of times to consort with her. I've followed her
movements since we were separated some time ago – for I have every right to –
and I have a clear idea what is about to happen. Those men who visited her just
this week are more powerful than she realises."
"Men visit her?" Antoninus almost wheezed in
disbelief. Why hadn't he known? Why hadn't she told him?
The other man's face twisted into a wry grin. "But
of course, she wouldn't want to spoil her tryst with you by telling you of
them. She is a woman of secrets, sir. I merely thought that I should warn you.
Goodbye."
Antoninus, paralysed with shock, merely stood gaping
as the stranger took his leave. He stared back, his eyesight misted over with
tears, at Diana's window on her building, before turning groggily to walk away.
If she was in trouble with some higher power, there was simply no way he could
propose to her yet. His heart sinking, he wondered at this sudden turn of
events, and then cursed himself for not sensing that anything was awry before,
when all the warning signs were there: her secrecy and quietness, her blatantly
upper-class mannerisms, her reluctance to allow him to court her openly. She
could not possibly love him if she could hide so much.
* * *
Julia
sat on her bed, watching her mother closely as she raced around the room in
paroxysms of fear, throwing yet more belongings into the wooden chest that had
sat collecting dust in their room for five years. Diana had let her long dark
hair fall out of the pin she wore unfailingly, letting it fall around her face.
Her cheeks were flushed red as tears streamed sporadically down them from her
glowing eyes. Not even the little five-year-old girl missed the irony that,
even as her mama had probably never been more miserable, she had never looked
more beautiful either.
"Mama?" Julia said quietly, looking
at the mess of things strewn around her and wondering how she might try to
help. "What's happening? Are we going somewhere?"
"Yes, baby," Diana replied feverishly,
smiling forcedly. "We have to leave. It might be a long journey, but we'll be
all right. I've travelled a long way before."
"Do we have to leave?"
"Yes."
"Is it because that man's master
wants to take me?"
Diana stopped short of packing
Lucilla's jewellery box into the trunk. She looked imploringly at the child,
and wondered why she had thought that, having seen Julia for himself and seen
that there was plainly nothing of the legendary Spaniard in her, Didius would
convince his master to leave them alone. How stupidly naïve of her, and how
damaging for the innocent little girl.
"That man's master will never take
you from me, Julia. You are my daughter. Don't ever doubt that."
"Then what did you mean when you
asked if he thought I was a Spaniard?"
Diana's heart sank. "I didn't mean
anything. I told you, I'll tell you all about your father when you're old
enough to understand." The woman wrapped the precious golden box in a soft
piece of wool and placed in deep down in the chest, beneath their clothes.
"You're far too young to know of these things. I should never have let you stay
here while that man was here."
She sat down, suddenly, on her own
bed, feeling nauseous. The headache that had been plaguing her for several days
had returned with a vengeance today. Taking a large draught of water from a cup
left on a low table nearby, she tried to fight the fatigue and sickness
threatening to overcome her. This was no time for her constitution, already
weak, to fail her.
Only Julia sensed how ill her mother
was becoming. She knew they would not be going anywhere, and that Diana would
never be strong enough to protect her on her own.
