leaving no traces of its inexorable passing merely an illusion? To a child, all adults look elderly. Yet now that Lucretia was a woman, Nonna, although more stooped and slower in her movements, looked scarcely a day older. The only real difference was that her hair had thinned to little more than a gray nimbus.
The young woman nervously patted at her own glossy black hair, such a contrast to her milk white skin as more than one poetic suitor had remarked.
“I always hid under the kitchen table, didn’t I?” she recalled.
Nonna nodded, smiling. “Yes, and I had such a bad memory even then that that was always the last place I looked. And of course with being rather hard of hearing, naturally I could never hear you giggling, not even when I came in to ask the cook if he had seen you.”
Lucretia smiled wordlessly, enjoying Nonna’s little fictions, happy to listen to the old woman’s soothing flow of words, as sweet as the honey with which Nonna had cured the tickle in her throat whenever she had a cough.
The narrow, sunwashed room in which they were conversing was on the top floor of a sturdy house on a side street leading from the Forum Constantine. The room served as Nonna’s bedroom, kitchen and general living space. Despite its cramped dimensions, it was pleasing to her, particularly as it was part of a building of solid masonry construction rather than one of the dilapidated wooden tenements in which the city’s truly impoverished congregated.
The large unshuttered window by which Lucretia sat admitted street sounds floating up from four stories below, a running stream of noise that diminished only slightly with each setting of the sun. There were always people out and about after darkness fell, although not necessarily to do good works.
A hoarse shout caught Lucretia’s attention and she shifted quickly in her chair to scan the scene below. No, that wasn’t Balbinus’ voice. It had probably emanated from the ne’er-do-wells conversing loudly as they lounged like dusty tomcats in a patch of sunlight at the house front.
“But hide and seek is a child’s game,” remarked Nonna. “It is not a game for a proper young woman. I’m glad you are here rather than walking on dusty roads or at that shrine you say you visited. Did they sing hymns?”
“Not while I was there,” Lucretia said. “But speaking of hymns, I recall that whenever we were going home after attending a church service, if I started to sing them in the street, you always admonished me very severely.”
Nonna sniffed. “Girls who sing in the streets grow up to be prostitutes, selling themselves in dark corners. Everyone knows that.”
“I would never prostitute myself,” Lucretia said firmly. “Besides, Michael will stop all singing in the streets.”
Nonna took another spoonful from her bowl. “You were always my favorite, Lucretia, of all the children I have looked after. I had high hopes for you, my dear. I still do. You are so beautiful, so intelligent, and yet I confess there have been times when I feared you were about to make a terrible mistake. Anatolius, for example. A handsome young man and pleasant enough, but really not at all a suitable match for you.”
“Anatolius is the son of a senator,” Lucretia pointed out.
“But Balbinus is himself a senator and a man of substance. Not a landless boy like Anatolius.”
“But a woman should marry for love, don’t you think?”
“Oh, my dear,” Nonna gave a nervous laugh and her weather-beaten face reddened. “Love? Well, there is poetry and then again there is life.”
“I will not be bought and sold,” Lucretia said quietly.
She was bitterly disappointed. She had expected Nonna to take her part, just as she always had, or at least in Lucretia’s memory. It had been some years now since her nursemaid had been granted freedom and a small pension and given this tiny apartment. Lucretia had visited her many times in the intervening interval. But not lately, not since Balbinus had turned out the attendant who accompanied her around the city. He had done it out of spite, she was certain.
Nonna sighed. “Lucretia,” she began gently, “you will understand that I am saying this only for your own good. And that is just how I would begin when you were a child and you were going to hear something you’d consider unpleasant, yes, yes, I can see you thinking it now.”
Lucretia smiled sadly. “You are going to tell me that I must go back to my husband, who is doubtless pacing the floor wondering where I am and worrying about my safety.”
Nonna nodded. “Yes. I could not refuse you shelter in my humble home but it has been long enough now. You must be aware that rumors will be circulating. This will not reflect well upon you or your husband, or for that matter on your own family.”
“I do not want to cause difficulties, Nonna. I will seek some other place to go.”
Nonna clucked scoldingly. “What do you know of fending for yourself, child? The city is a dangerous place and grows more so every day. You are fortunate indeed to have a man like Balbinus to take care of you.”
“And I thought you would understand!”
“You have not been married very long, Lucretia. You seemed happy enough. What demons have been whispering in your ear? Or does your husband mistreat you? I have a strong suspicion that my little lamb is not telling Nonna the entire story.”
Lucretia shook her head. She realized she could not bring herself to speak of it, tell Nonna that the senator’s ring burned her finger as if the circlet was fresh from the goldsmith. She could not accept her duty as other women did. Hadn’t she tried, for more than two years? Even after she had realized that it was an agony that would never end.
Then she had heard Michael’s preaching and something in the man’s words, something she could not identify, called insistently to her.
“Well, if you are indeed concealing something from me,” Nonna was saying, “still, you are from a noble family and therefore need no instruction on these matters. Would it not be possible to overcome the difficulty? Perhaps Balbinus could talk to your father about it?” She paused, considering how best to phrase what she had to say. “If you will permit an old woman who in her humble way loves you to speak plainly, whatever marital problems you are experiencing, Balbinus does love you and he must be very worried. It surprises me that he has not already been here looking for you.”
“The only way he could learn of your whereabouts is by questioning my father. To do that, he would have to admit that I had left him, and he would never do that. He is after all a man in the public eye and must be ever careful of his reputation.”
“And what about your own reputation, Lucretia? Do you not think that your servants are not wagging their tongues and nodding very wisely as they discuss the identity of your lover? Or lovers?”
The stern look on the old woman’s face relaxed. “Well, now,” she continued with a chuckle, “I see that setting of the jaw that I remember so well from your childhood. Nonna has said enough, yes, yes. But no doubt you accept the wisdom of my words, just as you always did when you were a little girl, so let’s enjoy a last few quiet hours together before you’re on your way home.”
She wiped a crust of bread around her silver bowl to sop up the last scraps of boiled wheat. “You were blessed not to be assaulted when you went to visit that shrine, Lucretia, for even in that wretched old tunic you are as beautiful as a dove and it is a miracle you did not attract unwanted attention. Perhaps it would be safest to convey a message to Senator Balbinus so that he can come to take you back, or at the very least send a couple of brawny servants to accompany you home.”
Lucretia stared down into the busy street, panic welling in her breast. A thin girl passed along below, carrying a basket of vegetables. Slaves had more freedom than well-born women. A beggar could roam the city without an escort.
The world was such a large place and so full of wonders and life, how could she spend all her days confined in the dark, windowless cell of a loveless marriage?
Chapter Fourteen
John was startled by a high-pitched scream sliding upwards until the voice cracked and gave out.
