Chapter Three: The Outsider
Loud voices, angry accusations, red faces and glaring eyes. It was all sickeningly familiar. Octavia of the Julii felt the usual sour bile welling up inside her at the breakfast table, turning her stomach so that she couldn't eat a bite.
"Brutus will kill us all, just you wait" Voluptuous Atia hissed, jabbing her finger at her skinny little son. "And it will be your fault. You killed our family's only protector, Marc Antony."
"I have no idea what you're talking about, mother." Octavian was calmly eating figs. Nothing ever spoiled his appetite. Yet he never seemed to gain any weight. "Antony was ambushed by thieves in a dark alley. I didn't kill him. And he was never anyone's protector, least of all yours. He used you like a common tramp. Your lust soiled the family honor."
"Why, you ungrateful little beast! I was trying to save us all from ruin, and this is the thanks I get." Atia tossed her hands in the air, appealing to the gods in melodramatic despair.
"Mother, may I be excused?" Octavia asked, in a small voice. "I want to go to the temple, and offer prayers and sacrifices for our family." And escape from this madhouse.
"You may not leave this house!" Atia went back to gobbling grapes. "Brutus and his thugs are sure to murder any one of us who steps outside. He's determined to be master of Rome, that's plain. He'll have to tidy up loose ends."
"On the contrary, Brutus is anxious to consolidate his position, and gain legitimacy," Octavian said quietly. "He's likely to send for me at any moment. Rome's only hope now is a show of unity. I mean to propose a triumvirate of Brutus, Cicero and myself. Together we can save the Republic."
"Foolish boy! The whole world is in love with your brain, is it? Brutus is just using you!"
"Mother, the whole world is not in love with my brain, nor with your body. And by the way, Antony was just using you."
"How dare you!" Atia went up like a torch. A fresh round of screams, accusations, and threats.
"I think I'd like to go to my room," Octavia whispered, pushing away her untouched breakfast. "I think I'd like to go and lie down." No one was listening to her. No one ever listened to her. It was like being on the bottom of the sea. The fragile beauty closed her eyes, and imagined herself lost, drifting forever among the seaweed. So peaceful . . .
Just then one of Atia's house slaves interrupted the happy family meal. "A messenger from the house of Brutus, domina."
"Is Brutus summoning me to discuss matters of state?" The boy Octavian asked eagerly.
"No, young master. The summons is for the young lady, Octavia. And the invitation comes from the lady of the house, Servilia."
A stunned silence fell over the breakfast table. Someone wanted Octavia? How amazing! The shy, sensitive beauty was too shocked to react. But then Atia took command. Her mother began shouting for brushes and paint pots and bullying female slaves into arranging her daughter's lovely auburn hair. Octavia was soon painted and powdered and laced into a gown that was much too tight and displayed far too much of her figure. And then before she knew it, it was time to go outside, and climb into a curtained traveling chair.
"Remember, don't eat or drink anything until that old witch tries it first," Atia called out, standing in the villa's outer yard. "Be careful, my little honey. Keep on your toes!"
"Remember, if Brutus proposes marriage, tell him he must come and speak with me first. I am head of the family now. I make all the decisions."
"Yes, I'll make sure to let Brutus know that you are the man in charge." Octavia looked down at her little brother, letting her big gray eyes tell him what he could do with his authority. Then she shut the curtains of her traveling chair, and leaned back with a sigh as the slaves lifted their heavy burden.
She didn't like hurting her family. Octavia didn't like hurting anyone. But she was tired of being the unwanted outsider.