The Eagle in the Dovecote Read online

  Aemilia looked. It did indeed look like a sword. ‘Is that good, do you think?’

  ‘Of course it is good. It is the mark of Mars.’ The baby woke and started to cry. ‘Why does he cry, Mother? Have I done something wrong?’

  Aemilia smiled and shook her head. ‘He’s hungry.’

  ‘Oh,’ Volumnia said, and moved to pull down her dress from her shoulder.

  ‘No, Volumnia, I pro—’, Aemilia began, then broke off.

  ‘What?’ Volumnia glared up at her.

  ‘Caecilius said you were not to breastfeed,’ she said apologetically. ‘He has asked me to find a wet nurse.’

  Volumnia’s expression darkened. ‘I’m not having a stranger feed my son. He will have no milk but mine.’

  ‘Caecilius was very insistent, my dear.’

  Volumnia pulled down her dress and guided her nipple to her son’s mouth. He sucked on it greedily. ‘I am not frightened of Caecilius, even if you are, Mother. He will not come between me and my son. Hire your wet nurse if you feel you must obey him, but do not expect me to use her.’

  ‘Then be discreet in your feeding, daughter, I beg you,’ Aemilia said. ‘Let Caecilius believe the wet nurse feeds him. It will be for the best. Although he will wonder if you do not conceive again soon.’

  ‘Let him wonder. Do not worry yourself about me, Mother,’ Volumnia said, keeping her eyes on her son. ‘Caecilius is so rarely here, I doubt I will have to be discreet about anything.’

  513 BC

  Caecilius waved away the last of his clients and the slave showed them out of the tablinum. Straightening his tunic, Caecilius made his way to the yard, eager to see his son start his first lesson in arms training. Volumnia had been nagging him for months to hire an arms trainer for Caius, but Caecilius had put it off, worried the boy simply wasn’t up to it. Caius was four years old and still small for his age. His legs were spindly, his back not at all straight. Caecilius found it difficult to believe Caius would be a great soldier one day, as Volumnia insisted he would be.

  Caius was already in the yard when Caecilius arrived. That was something; the boy was keen, if nothing else. Caecilius stepped out into the sunlight, taking pleasure in the warmth upon his face after all morning spent indoors. He turned his head and his pleasure faded. ‘Volumnia, what are you doing here?’

  Volumnia looked up at him from her seat against the wall, shielding her eyes from the sun. ‘Why shouldn’t I be here?’

  ‘It is too hot, and this can be too much noise and activity for someone in your condition.’

  Volumnia smoothed her hand over her rounded belly. ‘What nonsense you talk.’

  ‘I won’t have my unborn child put at risk. You have lost two babes since Caius was born. Your womb is obviously delicate.’ He knew she hated for any part of her to be called so and used the word deliberately. ‘And besides, you’ll distract Caius, you always do. Go inside.’

  He had used his harshest, no-nonsense tone and Volumnia, he saw with satisfaction, conceded defeat. She did huff, it was true, but said nothing, striding past him into the domus.

  ‘Caius,’ Caecilius called and pointed his son to the middle of the yard, ‘stand there.’

  Caius hurried to obey.

  Caecilius took a sword from the arms master who stood nearby and held it before Caius. Caius stared at it reverently. ‘What is this, Caius?’

  ‘A gladius, Father,’ Caius answered promptly.

  ‘And what is it for?’

  ‘Fighting.’

  ‘No,’ Caecilius said, and he saw his son’s face darken, annoyed at himself for giving the wrong answer. ‘It’s for killing.’ He began to circle his son. ‘Fighting is something you play at, Caius. If you have a sword in your hand, you have to be ready to use it to take another man’s life. Do you understand?’

  Caius nodded.

  Caecilius held out his hand, and the master swapped the gladius for a wooden sword. Caecilius held it up before Caius. ‘This is a rudius. It is made of wood. You will practice with this until you are ready to use a real sword. I trust that will not be too long, Caius. You will work hard every day with this sword and you will excel. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Father.’ Caius turned his head towards the domus. ‘Will Mother watch me train?’

  Caecilius followed his son’s gaze. He saw Volumnia’s face peering out of a small window, her eyes fixed on them. He pursed his lips in annoyance. ‘Your mother has no place in your training. You will attend only to me and to Rufius.’ Caecilius pointed at the arms master. ‘Do you understand?’ Caecilius waited for his son’s reply. It seemed to take a great effort for Caius to draw himself away from his mother’s gaze.

  ‘Yes, Father,’ Caius said eventually, looking up at Caecilius with big dark eyes.

  Caecilius grunted, not entirely satisfied. ‘Then let us begin.’

  FOUR MONTHS LATER

  Volumnia had been staring at the ceiling for the last hour, listening to the rain beating against the leather flap that covered the cubiculum window. Caecilius, lying beside her, had been snoring for most of that time.

  Her back aching, she turned over onto her side. It occurred to her she hadn’t been able to lie on her side for months without discomfort. Not now. Now, her belly was empty and soft, and she could not help but think what a waste her latest pregnancy had been. Nine months of bodily inconvenience, all those aches and pains, and then the cruel punishment of childbirth to have... what, at the end of it all? A child she was ashamed to own as hers.

  And she was to blame for the child being the way it was, Caecilius had made that very clear. When he had returned home a few hours after the birth, he had looked into the baby’s woven basket and jerked away, disgusted by the sight that met his eyes.

  ‘It looks like your brother,’ he said accusingly, for the baby had a harelip, just like Kaeso.

  Volumnia had cursed her blood. Her blood was responsible for the hideous deformity in her son, just as her mother’s blood had been responsible for Kaeso. She thanked the gods Caius had been perfect. His face was beautiful, without blemish or deformity, and he had the promise of being handsome when a man. True, Caius had been small when he was born, but he was making up for that now. Just a few months of arms training had wrought such a change in her son.

  It was no good, Volumnia decided, she couldn’t sleep and Caecilius’s snores were getting on her nerves. She got out of bed, taking care not to disturb Caecilius, and padded softly out of the cubiculum.

  The stone floor was deliciously cold beneath her feet as she made her way to where Caius and the baby slept. She opened the door, wincing as it creaked, and peered in. The slave that slept there was asleep, curled up on the floor in the corner of the room like a dog. Volumnia moved to Caius’s bed first, smiling at him frowning in his sleep, before moving to the basket. The baby was asleep too, a wheezing sound coming from the nose. It really was an ugly little thing. She felt no love for the baby, only revulsion. Having not engaged a wet nurse, out of a determination to defy Caecilius, she had been forced to feed it herself. She had hated having it at her breast. It had struggled to suck and when it finally did, had dribbled all over itself and her, white milk and spittle running down her breasts and belly. The midwife had warned her it would need special care if she were to keep it.

  Volumnia had no desire to take care of a deformed child. It would be a kindness to get rid of it, she decided; if it lived, it would only suffer the ridicule of others. She had seen it with Kaeso, how her friends had pointed and laughed, until Aemilia had kept him out of the way so their taunts would not upset him. And she had no intention of having to look after a child well into his adulthood as her mother was having to do with her brother. Volumnia took one last look at the baby and nodded to herself, decision made. She returned to her cubiculum and climbed into bed.

  ‘What have you been doing?’ Caecilius mumbled sleepily.

  ‘Looking at the baby.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘To be s
ure.’

  ‘Of what?’

  ‘That we should expose it.’

  Caecilius turned over to look at her. ‘You think so?’

  ‘You don’t want it, do you?’ she snapped.

  ‘No,’ he admitted, ‘it’s not a child I can be proud of.’

  ‘I feel the same,’ she said, tucking the sheet around her. ‘It is best if it is got rid of.’

  Caecilius yawned. ‘I’ll tell one of the slaves to do it in the morning then.’

  ‘No, I’ll see to it. It would be just like one of them to take pity on it and hand it over to a peasant to raise, and I’m not having that.’

  ‘As you please.’

  Volumnia was glad Caecilius had agreed so easily; she had half expected an argument. If he was in such an obliging mood, she would venture to voice the thought she had had in her mind ever since the baby had been born and she had seen its deformity. ‘Caecilius, I think we should see this as an omen. I have lost two babies, and this one is deformed. Who knows what kind of monster would come next? I feel the gods do not mean us to have another perfect child.’

  ‘You mean—’

  ‘I think it best if we do not try to have any more children.’

  Caecilius considered her for a long moment, his expression showing plainly he understood what Volumnia meant. ‘Very well. I suppose we have Caius and he is growing strong, far more so than he promised when born. He will have to do.’

  ‘Oh Caecilius, Caius more than does,’ Volumnia rebuked him heatedly. ‘He is the best of boys. You’ll see how strong he will be.’

  ‘So you keep saying.’ He turned his back to her, and Volumnia soon heard him snoring.

  That had been easy enough, Volumnia thought happily. To be rid of the baby she had never wanted and an assurance from her husband that he would trouble her no more in the marital bed. Excellent. From now on, she would be able to devote herself entirely to Caius.

  The rain of the previous night had made the ground wet but had succeeded in dampening down the dust. It was cooler too, a welcome relief from the muggy days of the past few weeks. The baby had been crying loudly and awoken Volumnia as the sun was rising. The noise aggravating her sorely, she rose and dressed, determined to have the child out of the domus. Not stopping to eat, she pulled her shawl up over her head and nodded to Trupo, the slave who was to accompany her on the journey, to fetch the baby.

  He brought it from the nursery in its woven basket. It was still crying, for though the nursery slave had attempted to feed it with goat’s milk while Volumnia was dressing, she had had little success and the baby was hungry. Volumnia told her it didn’t matter that the child was hungry as it would be dead soon enough.

  The child continued to cry all the way out of Rome, making Volumnia’s head ache and shortening her temper. After almost an hour, she and Trupo reached a spot she thought would do, and they moved off the road, into the country where grass, flowers and tall weeds grew.

  ‘Set it down,’ Volumnia instructed, and Trupo put the basket at her feet. She bent and peeled back the linen cloth that covered the baby. As she did so, an earthy smell filled her nostrils; the baby had soiled itself. She made a noise of disgust and altered her intention. She had thought to lift the child out, but had nothing to wipe her hands on. So, she tipped the basket on its side and gave a shove; the child rolled out onto the earth. Crying with gulping breaths now, the child kicked its filthy legs as it tried to right itself.

  Volumnia stood and pointed Trupo to the basket. He picked it up, tucking the dirty linen inside. He looked down at the writhing baby.

  ‘Stop that,’ Volumnia said as she saw his chin begin to wobble and Trupo turned aside. She took one last look at her child. There was no denying this was difficult. A woman could not abandon her child without feeling some remorse, but it really was for the best. The child would suffer for its deformity. She and Caecilius would suffer. And more importantly, Caius would suffer. If she kept the child, it would need all her attention. What part of her then would be left for Caius? No, it was better this way.

  She turned back towards the road and heard Trupo following. Her steps were hurried; she felt grit and stones bite into her soles, but didn’t slow her pace. She wanted to get home and barked at Trupo to hurry up, for he was dragging his feet. He was probably hoping she would change her mind.

  A foolish hope. Already, her thoughts had turned to Caius. He was probably waking up this very moment and the nursery slave would soon be giving him his breakfast. If she hurried, she might be in time to join him.

  As she and Trupo began walking back towards the city, Volumnia heard a low growl. She half-turned her head and thought she saw the swish of a grey tail through the weeds out of the corner of her eye. A moment later, her child’s cry was abruptly cut off.

  Volumnia arrived back at the domus too late to breakfast with Caius; the bread and oil were already being cleared away. The clatter of the dishes was loud and her head was pounding, so she ordered the slave to leave the dishes where they were, handed the girl her shawl and told her to fetch a bowl of water so she could wash her hands. She sat down at the table.

  Caecilius entered and stood staring at her, his hands on his hips. ‘Is it done?’

  ‘It’s done,’ she said. She rubbed her temples.

  ‘Are you… well?’

  His question annoyed her, for such solicitude was not in his nature, and she had no need of his concern now. ‘I have a headache. The long walk, I expect.’

  ‘You haven’t eaten either.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ The slave entered at that moment with the bowl of water and Volumnia submerged her dusty hands into it. It felt good to wash the dirt off and she pressed her wet fingers to her eyes, leaving them there for a long moment. ‘Where’s Caius?’

  ‘Where he should be, at his training. And where you should not,’ Caecilius called as Volumnia rose from the table and headed for the yard.

  Black spots danced before her eyes as she emerged into the yard. She raised her hand to her forehead to shield her eyes against the sun and waited for the spots to disappear.

  Caius was in the middle of the yard with Rufius, his arm outstretched as he tried to jab the point of his wooden sword into Rufius’s stomach. He had not yet seen her, and Volumnia took the opportunity to study her son. Caius was coming along well. He was still small, but his spindly legs were gaining muscle and his chest no longer had a puny aspect. It was a joy to know Caius enjoyed his training. He would train all day if he could, but Caecilius had given orders to Rufius that Caius was not to be allowed to over-exert himself, worried that to do so would cause damage to his developing body.

  Caius suddenly caught sight of Volumnia. His face broke into a grin, and he ran over to her. He playfully pushed the tip of the sword into the sagging flesh of her belly. ‘The baby wasn’t in my room this morning,’ he said.

  ‘The baby’s gone, Caius. It won’t disturb you again.’ Volumnia moved to the table by the wall where a jug of wine and cups were set out. She poured herself a cup and downed all the liquid, sinking onto the stool in the shade.

  Caius followed her. ‘Where’s it gone?’ he asked, swinging the sword.

  ‘I took it into the country and left it there. To die,’ she added when she saw him frown.

  ‘How will it die?’

  Volumnia thought of the wolf she was sure she had seen and the cut-off cry of her child. ‘A wolf will kill it.’

  ‘Did you take it there because of what was wrong with it?’ He pointed to his upper lip.

  ‘Yes.’

  Caius frowned. ‘Uncle Kaeso has the same thing, doesn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, he does.’

  ‘So, why isn’t Uncle Kaeso dead too?’

  ‘Because your grandmother wasn’t brave enough to get rid of him.’

  ‘But you were brave enough,’ Caius grinned.

  ‘Yes,’ she smiled back, flattered Caius thought her brave, ‘I was.’ She had been brave. Not every woman could do wh
at she had done. She had hardened her heart and done what was necessary for the wellbeing of her family. What was that if not bravery? ‘You see, if I had kept the baby, Caius, it would have taken a great deal of care. I would have had no time for you.’

  ‘Then I’m glad it’s gone,’ Caius burst out, thrusting the sword tip against the wall and twisting it. Stone dust trickled to the ground. ‘I like it best when it’s just you and me.’

  ‘And your father?’ Volumnia asked with a smile.

  Caius pushed the sword into the stone further. His bottom lip jutted out. ‘No. Just you and me.’

  Part II

  510 BC - 509 BC

  6

  ‘I don’t know how you manage to run through so many slaves,’ Aemilia complained as she and Volumnia fought their way through the streets to the forum. ‘I only have to buy a new one once a year.’

  ‘That’s because you’re happy to do most of the housework yourself. I don’t have time for all that. I have other matters to deal with.’ Volumnia pressed her hands to the flank of a donkey and pushed to get it to move. The donkey expressed its displeasure loudly and refused to budge. Volumnia tutted and moved around it.

  ‘What other matters?’ Aemilia scoffed, following after her.

  ‘Attending to Caius, of course. He takes up all my time.’

  Aemilia stepped over a pile of dung. ‘I really don’t think you should make him your only concern, Volumnia. You should think of your husband too.’

  ‘Caecilius doesn’t need me to think of him, Mother.’

  ‘So you say, but have you considered that it is your lack of attention that makes him spend so much time with the prince?’

  ‘Caecilius has always spent time with the prince because he likes him. It has nothing to do with me. Besides, he says the friendship is good for the family.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s true, but I still think you should not give Caius all your love and leave none for your husband.’